Into The Woods II: The Mirror and Rose
by FrauThenardier
Summary: AU. Many years have passed since the baker's curse was lifted. Now, a peasant girl named Beauty dreams of adventure. A mermaid longs for a pair of legs. A cat in boots desires acceptance. And a beast is under a spell. Now they must venture into the woods.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Into the Woods. That would be Sondhiem, whom, sadly, I am not. I do, however, own Puss, Brina, and Beauty.

_Once Upon a Time, in a far-off kingdom….._

"Serafina! Hurry up!"

The king paced up and down the hall in front of his wife's royal bedchamber, his face red with fury. _Women!_ He thought, gazing at the clock in its tower from a window overlooking the courtyard. The golden tiles threatened to break under his stomping feet as he grew more and more impatient. This was important! Today was the big day, the day he would hold a royal ball to show off his beautifully renovated castle, reminding his subjects all too clearly that he was above them. He longed to see the wretched fools grovel in his splendor as he sat on his throne, graciously permitting them to kiss his boots, and kicking them if they did not quickly do so. He should be going downstairs right now to burst in as his fanfare played, proclaiming that King Salazar was the most absolute monarch in all of history. But here was his wife, Queen Serafina-of-the-Twenty-Mattresses, taking what seemed like hours to find the perfect ball gown, the most dazzling shoes, and the costliest, most fragile-looking jewels to adorn herself with, not to mention the hours it took to wash, brush, and style her hair and to apply enough makeup to cover the faces of one thousand princesses. She was going to make him late, again!

"Serafina!"

Had Salazar possessed a loving heart, he would have understood that Serafina wanted to look her best, to shine brighter than the midnight stars at their grand gala ball. He would have remembered that **he **was, after all, the one who had wanted to marry a true princess. That it was **he**, and no other, who had decided to speed up his search by placing a pea under twenty goosefeather mattresses. **He **alone had decided to marry whatever girl could feel that pea through those mattresses. Basically, his whole predicament was his fault. King Salazar, however, was not famous for big-heartedness. His hobbies included torturing prisoners, humiliating his servants with menial tasks, such as scrubbing the royal floors with incredibly tiny brushes; and nagging at his beautiful wife.

"SERAFINA, DAMMIT!!!!"

The large, golden door was slammed open and a beautiful young woman angrily stomped out. She held a long, damask ball gown in each arm, one royal purple, one sparkling gold; each trimmed over with jewels of every color. A maid followed her, brushing her long, black hair. On her head rested a silver tiara which had cost a good part of Salazar's kingdom. Her neck was hung with jewels of every shape and size, ranging from rubies of the brightest fiery red to the most transparent diamonds. Her eyes, the same silver as the tiara, flashed fire at her husband.

"Honestly," She snapped, "Can't a queen dress herself in her own chamber without you barging in? You have some nerve. Just by standing here for these few seconds talking to you, I am losing valuable time in which I could be properly attiring myself for your precious little occasion. A real princess should not be rushed!"

"So just because you can feel a pea through twenty mattresses you suddenly have the authority to answer back to Salazar the Third! Is that what you honestly think, Serafina? Well, you are suffering from the greatest of all delusions, 'Princess!' The good Lord alone knows where you really came from, walking alone in that storm without an escort, covered in mud! I made you the queen you are today! Now put on one of those dresses and get downstairs, you are embarrassing me with your stalling! By the way," he added, "where in the blazes is our son?"

"Melinda!!!!!!!" Serafina screamed. "Bring the Prince to us at once!"

_A king, queen, and prince lived in a shining castle……._

An exhausted young maid entered the room. In one hand she held a small, golden suit, decorated all over with royal medallions. Her other hand was holding that of a screaming seven-year-old boy. This boy had the same jet-black hair and grey eyes as his parents. The eyes were overflowing with crocodile tears and his face was red with screaming. He wore a white silk shirt and velvet breeches and his shoes had gold buckles on them. With these shoes he kicked his nursemaid's leg.

"No!" he screamed. "I shan't wear that stupid suit! I shan't and you can't make me!"

"Melinda," Serafina snapped. "Why is the Prince not ready for the ball?"

"Your Highness, I'm sorry, I honestly am, but he just does not want to wear the suit. I've tried everything, really I have, but"-

"Enough of your excuses." She turned to the boy. "What is wrong, son? Has your nursemaid been incompetent again?"

"She won't let me wear what I want, Mother!" the Prince screamed. "She's forgetting her place! She's beneath me, isn't she?"

"Of course, my little one." Serafina cooed. She then fixed a horrible glare on the maid. "Dress the Prince in whatever he wants, but make damn sure he's presentable. I suppose I don't have to tell you what will happen to your situation if you do not."

Melinda sighed as the prince continued to kick her in the shins and slap her all over her body. "Yes, your Highness."

"We should throw her in the dungeon, Mother, for trying to make me wear that horrid thing!" the Prince screamed in his tantrum.

_Although they had everything their hearts desired (or possibly because of this) the royal family were spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But one night, an old beggar woman came to the castle….._

Just as Melinda began to attempt to drag the screaming Prince back to his bedchamber, a knock was heard at the castle door. King Salazar leapt up, outraged. All the guests were supposed to have arrived by now! No matter. He would simply deny the offender admission to the royal ball as punishment for his tardiness. He walked purposefully down his long, golden hall, through a gallery of expensive tapestries, down thirty flights of stairs, through a ballroom hung with curtains of glass crystal and swamped with guests, and finally though a marble-tiled, red silk-hung hall to the door, which he opened. What he saw outside the door in the snow made him cringe in disgust.

An old woman stood at the door of the castle, holding a rose of the brightest red and leaning on a knobbed staff. This was without a doubt the most hideous woman Salazar had ever seen. Gray, uncombed hair flew out from the top of her head in all possible directions, tied in one section by a torn pink ribbon. Her face was a mass of wrinkles, punctuated by two large scars: one just next to her nose, one covering the majority of her chin. She wore a large, pleated, ugly black cape which covered most of her body. What was most unattractive of all, however, was what she wore under that cape. Under that cape she wore a low-cut, lavender silk dress. Looking at this dress on her knobby figure made Salazar want to heave in disgust. She also wore a necklace of large, teardrop-shaped rubies, which did not belong on her any more than the dress did. She glared at Salazar as if **he** were the one trespassing as opposed to herself. Salazar did not know it, but this woman was there to administer a test on him and his family. She had heard that Salazar the Third was the most unkind ruler out of many kingdoms, and that his wife, Queen Serafina, and the seven-year-old crown prince were no better. She wished to see if they could prove themselves worthy of the possession of all they could wish for by offering shelter to an old woman. If they could not, she could deem them worthy of punishment.

_And she offered the royal family a single rose, in return for shelter from the bitter cold….._

"Sir," she groaned to the king. "I am a poor woman. I have nowhere to stay for the night in this horrible storm. I will pay you with this rose, if you will shelter me for this one night from the bitter cold."

_Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the King sneered at the gift, and turned the old woman away………_

"I do not desire your petty rose" Salazar snarled at the woman. "Go away, wretched hag. Do not demean my castle with your disgusting presence any longer."

The woman did not leave, but stared at him, glaring all the harder. Serafina rushed to the door. _So this must be the wife_, the old woman thought. When Serafina saw this woman, she winced. She wondered how the guards had let this woman get past them. She glowered at the beggar.

"Serafina," her husband told her, laughing a bit, "this simple old beggar has tried to pay us to shelter her with a simple rose. It's laughable! Us, shelter this wretched hag! Why, our steward would not even do that. This is a burden for the poorhouse, or the insane asylum."

"Leave us, peasant rat!" Serafina snapped. "We do not desire your company. Let us alone, you ugly, horrible witch!"

The old woman reached into her cloak and pulled out a mirror, quite possibly the most beautiful mirror ever seen. Its surface was made of pure diamond, set into a platinum frame with an ivory handle, twined about with vines of gold. On top of the mirror was a miniature rose, made of a ruby set between two emeralds.

"Perhaps this will tempt your highnesses. This mirror possesses magical attributes. When you gaze into it, it shows you not only yourself, but anything and anyone you command it to show you. It can be yours if you will shelter me."

Again, they denied entrance to the old beggar woman. "I warn you," she told them. "Do not be deceived by outer appearances, for true beauty is found within."

_When they dismissed her again, the old woman lifted her staff and revealed herself to be a witch! The king and queen tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had already seen that they were undeserving of their rewards……. _

Glaring, King Salazar threatened to call the guards if the woman did not leave immediately. The woman fumed. She had seen quite enough of them, and meanwhile had heard quite enough of their son's immature tantrum, to see that they did not deserve to live as happy a life as they did. With a cry, she pointed her staff at one of the knockers on the door. Blue light erupted from the end as the knocker fell to the ground with a crash. The king and queen reeled back, frightened.

"It's a witch!" Serafina cried, pressing herself close to her husband.

"P-please f-forgive us." Salazar tried to apologize. "We were unaware of your power and prestige. Why don't you come inside and …..?"

But there was no stopping the witch now. "You leave me no choice!" she screamed, and a blinding flash came from the end of her staff. A roar was heard upstairs. Salazar and Serafina raced upstairs to see what had happened. When they got there, they received the shock of their lives. Their son was gone! In his place sat a horrible, monstrous beast. The beast, a horrible, shaggy grey wolf with a bull's horns and a lion's mane, was wearing their son's clothes and roaring at the top of his lungs. Next to him, where Melinda had stood, rested a feather duster. Serafina screamed. The witch appeared behind her.

"You could not spare shelter for an old woman." She snapped. "Now you must pay the price. I have placed a spell on your castle, your son, and all of your servants. Your son is now transformed into a beast, and your servants are now mere objects in your castle. From this day forward, every bush in your garden will overflow with roses like the one I offered you to remind you of your conceited mistake. I am leaving you with the rose and mirror I offered earlier."

"No!" Serafina mouthed. She could not bear the thought of living through the shame of having a beast for a son. Salazar charged towards the witch.

"I demand you to lift this spell!"

The witch raised her staff again and pointed it at the angry king. The same blue light erupted from the end and he froze in place.

"You wish to have the curse reversed?" She moved towards Serafina, who shivered and cowered back towards the door to her chamber. "I'll need some things to happen first. A girl of pure heart must come to this castle. Nobody can force her to come here. She must come of her own free will. Your son must fall in love with this maiden and earn her love in return. This love, however, must be as true and real as the curse I have placed. Both lovers must prove their love at any cost. If the Prince accomplishes this, then the spell will be broken and all will return to normal. If not, he will be doomed to remain a beast forever." The witch strode over to Salazar, and zapped him again, allowing him to move. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a potion to make and a curse to lift on a childless peasant couple if the potion produces its due effect." In another blinding flash of light, the witch was gone.

Serafina screamed again. "Salazar, what are we going to do? We can't have a beast for a son. The shame of it! We'd be laughed out of our own kingdom! This is all your fault, Salazar! If you had just let the witch in, none of this would have happened. I'd rather endure the shame of an ugly hag under my roof than this!" She began to cry.

"There is but one thing to do, Serafina. Send all of our guests home. We must begin packing immediately. We are going to have to abandon our castle."

Once Serafina had chased the last guest out, she and Salazar hurried through the castle, stripping the rooms of everything of value that they could fit into the royal carriage. It took them hours to pack since they were doing it on their own, but they would not even consider going to the servants, being frightened of and put off by the very thought of ordering around household objects. The servants themselves, tired of being overworked and underpaid, did not volunteer to help pack. The king and queen then loaded the royal carriage, climbed in, and drove away, bound under Serafina's direction for the kingdom from whence she came. The beast, their only son, they left behind. The Prince, therefore, grew up cared for by his servants, whose consciences would not allow them to leave a child to die, abandoned by his parents. Their bodies, as well, stood in the way of their leaving, due to the fact that they were now household objects and therefore any venture into the kingdom could end with them being placed in a market stall and sold. The kingdom deteriorated without government, and the population abandoned it. The premises were soon overcome by brush and tall grass. As for the Prince, now the Beast, ashamed of his haggard appearance, he kept inside his castle, using the witch's mirror as his only window to the outside world. As years passed, he became even crueler, even violent, towards his caregivers. By adulthood, it was clear to him that no girl would pass through the woods surrounding his kingdom and through the brush surrounding his castle to be with him, a fact which he felt was made obvious by his form. He knew he was doomed, doomed to remain in his beast's body for all time. A girl would never come. Nobody could love a beast.

_Many years passed, and the Prince fell deeply into despair, and lost all hope………_

Nine months after King Salazar and Queen Serafina abandoned their castle, in a kingdom far away from this, in the middle of the night, a child was soon to be born to a formerly childless baker and his wife. In the dark, Chip the baker paced around his small cottage on the outskirts of the woods, his face a knot of worry. _What if something goes wrong?_ His wife Joanna's water had broken about twelve hours ago and still he had not heard the crying of a baby. Just his wife, screaming like a banshee, yelling death threats out the window should he ever dare to come near her again. Chip covered his ears as an especially pained shriek rose from the bedroom window.

"_**OWOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!WHY DID I EVEN WANT TO HAVE A CHILD IN THE FIRST PLACE???!!**_"

Chip hurried to the window and tried to peek in to comfort her in her misery. Unfortunately, the midwife saw him, and slammed the shutters on the window in Chip's face. She had told him hours ago, when he had first brought her over and was frantically hovering over his laboring wife, that Joanna would be all right, and that he should wait outside and listen for a baby's cry. He knew he should stay outside, but his heart told him otherwise. _Go to Joanna_, it seemed to tell him. _This is the birth of the child which you have long waited for. The child which due to a curse you could not have until now. The child you ventured into the woods, hunting for strange ingredients to conceive. You must ensure that this child is born safely, and that the mother of this child is not harmed. _His mind made up, Chip crossed around his house to the door. Just as he approached the entranceway, however, he heard the midwife shout over Joanna's screams, "Jeanine! Bar the door!" When Chip tried to open the door, he found it to resist his efforts. _Drat the midwife's assistant!_ He mentally cursed, beginning to pace around his house again. His efforts to help his wife in her time of need had been thwarted by some scrawny, flinty-toothed, fifteen-year-old peasant girl.

Chip wandered around his house for a half-hour more, surprised that all his pacing hadn't worn a trench around his cottage. He wanted to burst from impatience. Joanna's contractions had seemed to solidify into one large pain, judging by her cries, which only seemed to cease for the occasional breath. He wanted to be sure that she would not stay in this unbearable pain she seemed to be in. Also, he wanted to see his son. Chip was certain that his wife would give birth to a boy. He had felt that this would be from the start, in the convincing hope that all fathers-to-be feel during their wives' pregnancies that soon there would be a little boy, the spitting image of his father, running about the house. He had even had dreams about this son: a boy he would teach the family trade to, a boy who would make him proud, a boy who would someday be as good a baker as his father. Chip had even decided on a name for the son of his dreams. When the baby was born, he was going to tell Joanna that he wanted their child to be called Charles Junior. He would be a "Chip" off the old block. Chip paused and sat on a stone step in front of his door, happily engrossed in his reverie of the near future. He could almost see the images of himself and his expected Charles Junior wandering along the outskirts of the woods gathering firewood when a final shriek from Joanna shattered his thoughts. There was silence……and then, he could hear it! A baby crying! The baby was born! Chip heard his door being unbarred and the scrawny, flinty-toothed midwife's assistant dashed outside.

"Congratulations!" She cheerily told him. "You are a father! Your wife has just given birth to a healthy baby" -

She never finished the sentence. Chip had already bolted into the house. At last his wish had been granted! At last he had a child! At last, long last, he was going to see his son! Chip dashed through his kitchen, which also served as his shop, and burst through the door to the bedroom, where his wife and child were waiting.

"Where is he?" he shouted as he appeared in the doorway. "Where's my son?"

Joanna reclined on the bed, completely exhausted. She wore a long, flannel nightgown and her flame-red hair, which hung down to her waist instead of being bound up in a net as it usually was, was drenched in sweat. Despite this, however, she was glowing. In her arms she held a small, squirming bundle, wrapped up in a blanket; which she now looked up from to address her husband, staring at him hardly as she spoke.

"Don't you mean 'where is **SHE**, where's my **DAUGHTER**?" She laughed as her husband's face fell in surprise. "Come up and see her."

Bewildered, and slightly disappointed that he did not have a son, Chip slowly walked over to the bed and sat down next to his wife. The baby turned over in her wrapping at the noise of his footsteps. Joanna laughed again and turned towards her.

"Where are your manners, Little One? Your father wants to meet you. Why don't you look at him like a good girl?"

As if she had understood her mother, the child shifted herself to face Chip. As he leaned forward to look at her tiny face, any disappointment that the baker may have had that he had a daughter instead of a son was completely dissolved in his awe at the little thing. It looked exactly as if Joanna had given birth to an infant version of herself. The baby's soft skin was almost as white as the flour Chip used for baking. Patches of red hair grew in downy fluff all over her head. Her eyelids lifted themselves open, brown eyes were revealed. Chip almost couldn't breathe looking at her, she was so gorgeous. All he could say was "I suppose we won't be naming her 'Charles Junior', then."

"Most certainly not. Chip, we shall have to think of a very special name for this one. After all we've been through to get her, I mean." She lovingly gazed down at the child again and kissed her. "It was worth every year of childless agony we lived through, every strange object we searched for in those woods, to have this perfect little thing come into our lives."

Chip still couldn't focus on anything but the beauty of his offspring. "She's so beautiful," he murmured, awestruck. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. N-next to her mother, of course." He quickly added, not wanting to insult his wife after she gave birth, lest she become upset at him as many women easily become after they give birth.

Joanna, however, seemed to have not heard the last remark. "She is beautiful, isn't she?" She stroked the girl's soft, new hair. "Such a little beauty." She paused. "Beauty." She repeated it, testing the name out, judging the sound. "Beauty. Beauty, beauty, beauty."

"Joanna, what are you doing?"

"That's what we should call her. Beauty." Her husband looked at her strangely as she said this, as if she were mad. "Don't you see? She's such a beautiful little girl, isn't she? And it's beautiful in itself, the fact that we have lifted the spell on our house and that this baby is what we have to show for it. Listen to the sound of it. Beauty. Isn't it perfect? Doesn't it suit her well?"

Chip thought about this for a few minutes. "Hmmm. Beauty. Come here, Beauty. Beauty, put that down! Stay away from the witch next door, Beauty. This is my daughter, Beauty. Hey, you boys! Keep away from my Beauty! Beauty….. I like it." He turned to the infant, who was beginning to fall asleep. "What do you think, Little One? Would you like to be called 'Beauty?'"

The baby yawned. Chip grinned.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' Beauty it shall be." Happily at peace with her new family and name, Beauty fell asleep as the previously childless baker and his wife shared a passionate kiss, ecstatic that their wish had been fulfilled.

_For who could ever learn to love……. A Beast?_

_I have a pretty good idea who could! Reviews are always welcome! Flames will be used to make magic baked beans. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Nineteen years later…….._

Deep in the dark woods, dawn was just beginning to break. A bird perched in a tree. Spreading its brown wings into the gentle breeze, it began to sing a pretty little song, welcoming the morning. The bird sang joyously, thinking it was safe. Sadly, this was not the case.

"**MEEEEOOW!!**"

A flash of black and brown raced through the air at the bird. Frightened, it spread its wings and attempted to fly away, desperate to survive the attack. It was too late. With a bloody _snap!_ the bird's life ended. The hungry cat sat down on the branch formerly occupied by her breakfast and began to eat. Her little green eyes darted all over the carcass, deciding which part to eat first. After a couple of minutes, she made up her mind and plunged into the tail. Blood oozed from the dead bird, staining her black fur, getting into the brown fur that grew like long hair from her head. The feathers flew down the ragged white shirt she wore, getting stuck in the belt she used to secure a perfectly-balanced dagger at her side. Her ragged little homespun trousers became even filthier as they became covered in bird residue. The only thing that the cat took care not to ruin was a pair of beautiful, brown-leather boots on her hind paws. _Not bad, Catalin._ She thought to herself, satisfied. _5.2 seconds. That's a new record._ She licked her paws happily, very pleased with herself. _This is perfect practice for the Cavalry, or a legion of knights, or even the Royal Guard, in which I will have to attack dozens of men with equal, if not greater efficiency and precision._

Catalin jumped to the ground, whipping out her dagger.

"Pray for mercy from…. **PUSS IN BOOTS!**" She cried, brandishing and waving her dagger, accompanying this with some impressive footwork. Maybe this would be it. Maybe in this kingdom, she could find some sort of army that would accept her military aptitude. She had traveled through kingdom upon kingdom for the past year searching for an opportunity to fight and to prove herself to be brave and full of valor and glory. So far, she had met with nothing but rejection. Catalin was undeniably an uncommonly great swordswoman. She was also skilled with an axe and crossbow, and could shoot an arrow into an apple on someone's head blindfolded. Catalin had even once helped to ward a dragon away from her hometown. Sadly, the odds were stacked against her in two respects. The first was that she was a cat. The second was that she was a girl. Catalin's heart had been broken when she was rejected as a page to a knight as a kitten due to species-and-sex-related reasons. The cracks in her heart grew with every subsequent rejection. Catalin had always wanted to be heroine. To be remembered forever for a battle she'd won, a monster she'd slain, or a life she'd saved. Most importantly, she wanted to prove to the world that cats, girls, and especially female cats could fight as well as –if not better than- human men. So far, however, she had gotten nowhere.

Catalin sighed. Maybe she should consider herself lucky. There were many ways in which this one out of her nine lives could be worse. For example, when she left her hometown, she had been smart enough to study how to survive in the woods. Thanks to this, she knew exactly what birds lived in which sorts of areas and were easiest to catch. She knew which fish could be caught safely and which could cut you or give you an electric shock. She knew what locations were best for sleeping, and how to check if any given cave had bears or wolves living in it. She knew what kind of dirt was best suited for use as a "sandbox." In short, she knew everything. Also, she mused, one good thing that could be said for rejection was that it gave her time to hone her skills. _I should even be glad to be out here at all_. She added to herself. _At least my mother actually gave me her blessing to go in search of my dream. I'm very lucky compared to a great many girls, namely that dopey peasant girl I met a few days ago._ She sighed in exasperation, thinking back to what had befallen her on that fateful morning when a peasant family from the nearby village had decided to gather firewood from the woods in which Catalin was currently making her home.

Flashback!...............

_**It was a perfect day in the woods, at least perfect by the judging of a cat in boots. The sun was not shining brightly enough to overheat the cat in her fur, or to penetrate too greatly through the trees and partially blind her with its intensity. However, the clouds were not so dense and grey as to suggest a potential storm. All things considered, Catalin surmised, it was a perfect morning in which to practice her form. With all the skill of an expert, Catalin drew her trusty sword – well, dagger, really- from its sheath. She swished it around in the air and pointed it at an imaginary opponent, growling menacingly. She then began to slash, chop, and stab at various areas of her pretend enemy's body: the head, both shoulders, both legs, and the stomach and chest; all the while dodging and blocking strikes that continually occurred inside her mind.**_

_**"All right! Now the head. Aagh! That was wrong! I must work more at improving my slash technique. Oh, he's coming at you! What do you do? Swish! Clang! That was close. Now his stomach is vulnerable. EN GARDE! Success! Excellent! Now finish him"- **_

_**She was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes. Someone was coming! She turned, brandishing her dagger, her back arched as high as it could be, her little green eyes narrowed, their pupils smaller than pinpoints. She knew, having run into vicious bears, hungry wolves, and crafty, bloodthirsty trolls in her travels; that anything can happen in the woods. The first step to defense was preparation. Alertness. Not letting the enemy have a head start. She braced herself as someone bounded through the bush. She drew her dagger just as a small foot became entangled in her tail. She had no time to scurry away before a body larger than hers fell, squashing her to the ground.**_

_**"Ooof." A soft female voice groaned, and then gasped. Quickly shifting herself off of Catalin, the girl began to apologize. "Oh my goodness! Forgive me, Madam Cat. I am so sorry! Are you all right?"**_

_**As fast as a bolt of lightning, Catalin leapt to her feet and pointed her dagger at the intruder. "Explain yourself! What is your business? What have you come here for?" **_

_**Frightened, the voice piped up "I….. I promise n-not to h-hurt you."**_

_**Suspicious, Catalin looked over the intruder, whom she still held at knifepoint. The young human woman wore a dress of a muddy brown calico with a bodice of tan homespun fabric. A sash of the same color as the bodice encircled her waist, fastened with a clasp cleverly hidden behind a small pink ribbon. A stone of the same shade of pink as the ribbon hung from her neck by a golden-yellow cord. The girl's red hair was disheveled from dashing through the woods. Her pale skin took on greater pallor as she shivered in wonder, and her brown eyes were large with fear. The girl was obviously not armed, in fact she did not appear to have been carrying anything but a faggot of sticks, which had fallen from her arms and been scattered in the fall. Catalin inwardly reproached herself as she sheathed her dagger. This girl was obviously a damsel in distress. Catalin's ears pricked up. Maybe this girl could use her help!**_

_**"Forgive me, Miss. I was just leaping to rash conclusions." **_

_**The human bent down to pick up her sticks, obviously intending to flee immediately. Catalin rushed over and began to help her before the girl could refuse, unsure how to ask if her services were needed. **_

_**"So, Miss, judging by the way you were running, I would say there's a battle afoot…..?" she began.**_

_**"No." the human replied, and then gasped again. "Oh no! Mother's shawl! I was wearing it only a minute ago! What could have happened to it?" She immediately put down her sticks and began to wander the clearing, searching frantically. Catalin put down her sticks and looked around as well. Within seconds her sharp cat's eyes saw a purple shawl covered with a pattern that looked like a series of gold half-moons hanging from one of the bushes the girl had crashed through. She walked over, picked it up gingerly in her paws as if it were the most valuable treasure on Earth, and offered it to the girl. **_

_**"Oh, thank you!" The girl sighed in relief, accepting the garment and pressing it to her chest. Catalin smiled.**_

_**"So I assume you 'borrowed' your mother's best shawl for something?" **_

_**"Oh no." The girl sighed. "It's much more important than that. My mother….." The girl paused. She wiped a little tear from her eye. "My mother….. is dead. This shawl is all I have left of her."**_

_**Catalin's heart welled up with sympathy. Dead? The poor girl! What had happened?**_

_**As if she had heard Catalin's thoughts, the girl continued. **_

_**"You see, a long time ago, a giant attacked our kingdom, descending from a beanstalk. She was seeking a boy from our village who had stolen gold, a hen, and a magical harp from her and killed her husband. Many unfortunate people were killed when they wandered into her path. My mother, it can be assumed, was amongst them."**_

_**They bent down to continue gathering the sticks. Catalin burned inside from curiosity and sympathy for the human. **_

_**"What happened to her?" Catalin asked, grabbing a large branch and placing it on her pile. **_

_**"Nobody can say for sure. What is known is that she and my father fanned out to find the boy to protect him from the local witch, who had wanted to feed him to the giant. They each agreed to go one hundred paces into the woods on their search. Now, whether my mother got lost and wandered off in the wrong direction, or lost count and went over a hundred paces, or was detained on her journey, I can only guess. Whatever happened, though, she was found by the boy under a fallen tree. Giant footprints were everywhere. The boy buried her in one. I was only a baby when it happened." The girl explained. "I suppose this explains the exaggerated behavior of my father." She added to herself. Catalin, however, picked up on this last bit of information.**_

_**"Your father?" **_

_**The girl sighed. "I suppose you wondered why I was running through the woods like that." Catalin's ears pricked. She went on. "You see, my father loved my mother very much. Although he remarried two years after she died, I don't think that the pain of her death ever really left him. He always felt remorse that he didn't insist that she stay behind with me, or that they search together. As a result, he is very overprotective of my younger siblings and me. He never lets any of us into the woods alone, for fear that one of us will meet my mother's fate." The girl's voice took on an exasperated tone as she continued to speak. "It is very kind of him to care so much about us, and his concern is appropriate in the cases of my brothers and sister, who are but fourteen, ten, and seven. But I am nineteen years old! It is high time I was allowed to set out on my own. But he is afraid to let me. Naturally I am quite tired of this. So today, when my family and I were out gathering firewood, I seized my chance to see the woods alone. As soon as nobody was looking, I dashed off, and I'm afraid that's how you found me."**_

_**Catalin's heart sank. There would be no battle. There would be no chance to prove herself. Just a human girl whose father could not realize she'd grown up. Catalin felt a small twinge of empathy for this girl. After all, she herself longed for adventure and had been denied it. But still, this girl was unarmed. She looked too weak to pose any threat to anything now that Catalin really looked at her. And from what the girl had told her, she was obviously inexperienced. All in all, she was a sorry sight. Catalin could, in a way, agree with the father. There was no possible way that this girl could survive if, say, even a wolf attacked her. Sighing, Catalin handed her pile of sticks to the girl. **_

_**"Well, it certainly was nice talking with you, um……"**_

_**"Beauty."**_

_**Beauty. A superficial name if Catalin had ever heard one. **__What kind of parent__**, she wondered,**__ names their child 'Beauty?' It certainly suits her, but wouldn't a name like that give her a superiority complex? Either that or give her horrible anxiety, trying to live up to it._

_**"Catalin." Before the girl could say anything, Catalin cut her off with, "But please. They call me 'Puss in Boots.'"**_

_**"Pleased to meet you, Puss in Boots. Have you lived in the woods for long?" Beauty asked, and then groaned as she saw the shadow of a short man in the distance. She heard her name called. **_

_**"Oh, Good Lord. I knew it was only a matter of time before he noticed I was gone. I have to make ready with a good excuse. Goodbye!" **_

_**As Beauty trudged off into the distance, Catalin smirked. "Yes, return to Father, Little Peasant Girl." She resumed practice. **__Now there is a potential damsel in distress if I've ever seen one. If I can imagine any maiden in the clutches of a monster, that's the one. While I hope she attains some independence, I also hope that she gains experience and knowledge of the world as well. _

Flashback ends…….

Catalin sat on the ground, gazing out into the trees. That Beauty was a character. If she ever saw the peasant girl again, Beauty was going to learn a thing or two about handling oneself in the woods, courtesy of Puss in Boots. Shaking her head, Catalin endeavored to divert herself from Beauty with thoughts of the battles she would soon fight. Thoughts of the foes she would soon conquer. Thoughts of the glory that would soon be hers. Maybe this time she'd be lucky. Maybe this kingdom would be the one which would provide her golden opportunity.

"All right! That should be enough sweet rolls! Now, please fetch the baguettes!"

Chip the baker ran a hand through his graying hair as he watched his sons leap off of his cart and looked down at a list he was holding. With a smile, he pulled a stubby charcoal pencil from his apron pocket and crossed a line that read _sweet rolls_ off of his list. Standing on the driver's seat of the cart, he gazed at his inventory. One corner of his rickety, weathered, grey cart was piled to the brim with crates of sourdough loaves. In the center sat a large box of turnovers, cakes, and muffins. The next corner was filled to bursting with whole grain and rye breads. Lining one edge of the cart was a queue of crates of loaves of the whitest bread Chip could bake. And now, added to the pile were ten large crates of sweet rolls. _At this rate, I'll be on my way in no time!_ This was the day that Chip would depart on his annual trip to a neighboring kingdom to sell his wares at their annual spring festival. This trip was always successful. Chip always returned fully bought out and with enough money to keep him in baking supplies for the next year. _And this year will be no different!_ He confidently assured himself, taking off his spectacles and polishing them on his ragged shirt.

"Cinderella!" He called into his cottage, "Are the biscuits ready, Dear?"

The baker's second wife happily strode out of the cottage, wiping her hands on a white apron tied around her waist. Since the giant attack, Cinderella had changed a bit, like her husband. Her hair, still as chestnut-brown as it had been when the baker had married her, was falling out of its bun due to all the work she was doing this morning. Her pretty face was tanned from the sunlight, and when she squinted her eyes, as she was now to avoid the sun's glare, one could see tiny crow's feet. She had grown a bit plump over the years as well, from giving birth to three children. Picking up her long, grey skirt so that she could walk down the step at the door, she called out to her husband.

"Nearly there, Chip. Five more minutes at the most." Then, turning inside, she called, "Charlie! Alfred! Please hurry, boys."

Two short, gangly boys with black, curling hair, the images of a young Chip, came out of the house. One, at fourteen, was more muscular than his ten-year-old counterpart. Both of them carried five baguettes under each arm. They playfully punched and shoved each other as they walked up to the cart.

"You needn't worry about us, Mother! It's Beauty who needs to be reminded to focus on her job!" Ten-year-old Alfred yelled, pointing to a tree next to the far right corner of the house.

Everyone followed his gaze. Sure enough, there was Beauty, sitting under the tree, staring off into space. Fourteen-year-old Charlie laughed.

"Hey Alfred, I'll bet Beauty's thinking about **RAOUL**!"

That did it. Beauty sprang to life at the mention of her undesirable suitor. The village in the vicinity of which Beauty's family lived was overpopulated with young men. Many of these men spent most of their time hunting in the woods and drinking at the tavern. These men were usually as cocky as roosters, boasting of their triumphs, belittling others, and chasing beautiful women. And nobody was worse than Raoul. The tavern was covered with his trophies, he was always bragging not only about his exploits, but also his appearance, his strength, and all of the beautiful women he had gone with; and worst of all, this boorish lout fancied Beauty, because, as her name would imply, she was the most beautiful girl in the village. Beauty fumed. Why did her brother have to remind her of him? Raoul had been trying to court Beauty for the past year. He was handsome, Beauty had to admit, but he was also vain, conceited, a brute….. in short, he was entirely wrong for Beauty.

"Charles!"

"Oh, come now, Beauty. It's clear you fancy him, the way you avoid him!"

"I will not even dignify that with a response." Beauty turned and headed towards the house.

"Look Charlie!" Alfred laughed. "You've discovered her secret! She's blushing!"

Beauty sighed as she took the biscuits out of the oven and packed them in a box. _Just my luck_, she thought, _mine had to be the two most annoying little brothers in the kingdom! _ As she carried the box to the cart, she returned to her thoughts from before. Beauty had been dreaming again of the excitement that she longed for. She longed to leave home and see the world. Beauty had always wondered what the world was like outside of the small universe that was her cottage and the nearby village. She assumed that it must be a world like she'd read of in books: full of lush jungles, deserted castles, wild oceans, and a myriad of magical people and creatures. She desired above all things to be a part of the many adventures of this world. _At least a letter from Chandler would be nice. _Chandler, Beauty's cousin, was the son of the late Rapunzel, Chip's sister who was raised in a tower by the witch who had once kept him childless. Chandler was a year older than Beauty, but had the life experience of one ten years older. He spent much of his time sailing the seas for adventure, and he was always sure to write Beauty about his latest discoveries. Chandler was, however, a prince. As a prince, he had the free time and the consent and hunger for prestige of his family enabling him to seek excitement. Beauty not only had an overprotective peasant father holding her back, but also the many duties of helping to run the family bakery. She supposed things really would not be any different for her had she been born a princess instead – Chandler's twin sister had been married off at sixteen to extend the family line, never being given any chance to really live – but still, Beauty envied her cousin. Wherever he went adventure pursued him, while the only thing that pursued Beauty was tomorrow's bread. Beauty wondered if Chandler had any idea just how lucky he was. Her wondering was cut short when she turned to see a shrimpy, dark-haired little girl coming down the front step, half hidden by a large box of croissants.

"Mary!" Beauty cried, running to her sister and lifting the box from her arms. "That box is far too big for you! You'll never be able to see!" She gently scolded the little girl. "Besides, you just got over a cold. Do you want to make father's customers sick?"

Mary smiled at her sister, dimples forming on her flushed little cheeks.

"I just wanted to help, Beauty. I'm sorry."

Beauty sighed. Mary could be quite a headache for a seven-year-old, yet sometimes, such as right now, she could make herself so cute that Beauty really couldn't resist her.

"It's all right, but it would really be a help if you would just sit down and be quiet for a while, all right?"

Beauty placed the box on the cart as Chip crossed the final line off of his list. He placed the list and pencil in his pocket and sat down on the driver's seat, ready to begin his journey.

"Thank you all for helping me load the cart. I shall return in two weeks, and then we shall have plenty of money for baking supplies! And," he hinted, a smile building on his face, "Maybe a few other things. As a matter of fact….." Chip was now grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of the looks on his family's faces when he revealed his surprise. "What would you all like me to return with? I shall return bearing something for each of you. You all deserve it, you've been such a help in the shop all year and in loading my cart…."

At this, the entire family began to protest that this was not necessary, that all that they wanted was for Chip to return safely, that they helped out because they wanted to and it was their duty as a family and rewards were not expected. Chip, however, was very persuasive in convincing his family that he would like nothing more than to show his affection by doing this, and finally he had requests from the majority of his family: Cinderella desired a new pair of soft, sensible shoes; Charlie and Alfred wanted hunting knives with which to hunt meat for meals the next time the family was in the woods; and Mary requested a pink hair ribbon.

"And you, Beauty?" Chip asked, gazing at his eldest daughter. "What would you like?"

_What WOULD I like?_ Beauty wondered. She drew her shawl closer around her body, trying to formulate an answer. _Your consent to seek my fortune. Your confidence that I can handle myself. Your finally grasping the fact that I will not end up like Mother. One measly little hour in the woods on my own!_ No, she decided, it was better to ask for something that her father would actually be willing to give her. Something ordinary girls, girls who had no interest in gallivanting off into the woods would want. After a pause, she answered.

"Roses, please, Father. I would love to have a nice bouquet of roses, to sit in the shop and brighten up the room."

Chip smiled and nodded at his daughter. Then he turned and flicked the reigns on his cart. The tired old horse attached to the reigns neighed and began plodding into the woods as Cinderella and her stepdaughter and children waved him off.

As he drove into the woods, Chip could not stop thinking about Beauty's odd request. _Roses, my foot!_ The baker knew what his daughter really wanted. She wanted to be free to get out. To see the world. To spread her wings and fly away. She would not be content staying at home, not being a part of the story that was her life. She reminded Chip of her mother in that respect. Joanna. Joanna had never wanted to stay at home either, no matter how much safer Chip thought she would be if she did so. When Chip had set out to break the spell that kept he and his wife childless nearly twenty years ago, Joanna had followed him into the woods, wishing to help him break the spell. She had even formulated an excuse as to why she had followed him there. Come to think of it, Beauty had used the same tactic when he found her after she had wandered away from the family in the woods a few days ago. She had told him that she had seen some very nice, dry sticks in the distance that would make wonderful fuel for the stove and that she was just searching for them. That was better than what Joanna had come up with : "You forgot your scarf." Chip sometimes wondered if Joanna had ever figured out that he always hated that ugly, blue and white scarf that she had knitted for him. It was ironic that since Joanna's death, that was the only scarf he ever wore. The memory of Joanna's death still crushed him. When the witch told him that she was dead, he felt as if the world had stopped turning. His emotions became a blur: grief, anger, sadness, hurt, remorse. His confidence faded in his grief. Resigned to what he thought was the inevitable fact that soon he, Cinderella, the lad Jack, Little Red Riding Hood, and the then-three-month-old Beauty would be crushed by the giant as well, he abandoned the group. Little Beauty was also a factor in his abandonment. It was clear she was her mother's daughter; whenever Chip looked at her he saw an infant Joanna looking back. This resemblance made him, he hated to admit, hate his own child for being there when her mother was gone. Luckily, after he left the group, a chance encounter with the ghost of his father led him to reconsider his position. On his return, he immediately reclaimed Beauty and wrapping her in Joanna's purple shawl and holding her close, he promised himself nothing would ever happen to her. The giant was defeated and Jack, Red, and Cinderella moved in with the now-single father. Jack and Red had been a valuable asset in running the shop, and Chip had happily seen them grow into two fine individuals. They were married now with three children, and Jack was the owner of a successful dairy farm. Cinderella, his gentle Cinderella, had helped him as a friend or sister in his time of need, and had taken Beauty to heart as if she were her own child. Chip had grown to love her and married her and she had borne him three more children, but……. He hated to admit it, but he was still in love with Joanna. Chip didn't want to have favorites, but he always secretly thought of Beauty as his favorite child because she was Joanna's. That was why he was overprotective. That was why he never let her in the woods alone. He was always afraid a giant would crush her, too. Or that she'd be eaten by something. He knew this wasn't fair. Beauty probably felt the way Rapunzel had felt when she was trapped in her tower. Chip wished she understood that he only wanted what was best for her. Oh, well. He'd make it up to her. He'd start by bringing her home the most beautiful roses he could find. That thought in his mind, he turned his focus toward the path, humming a tune.

"**Into the woods! Into the woods! Into the woods then out of the woods, and home in two weeks!**"

_Author's note: Sorry for the delay. You wouldn't believe how much editing I did on this chapter. Anywho, I always thought that the Baker would be EXTREMELY overprotective of his offspring, no? And that he and Cinderella would have had other children. Don't worry; you WILL see more of Cinderella next chapter when she gives Beauty some good old-fashioned stepmotherly advice! Coming soon: Chandler meets a mermaid, Beauty gets an undesirable marriage proposal, and the Baker finds himself in quite a scrape all because of a bunch of roses!_

_Like I said: Reviews are welcome, flames equals magic baked beans_


	3. Chapter 3

Many miles away from the woods into which Chip the Baker had ventured, in the depths of the ocean, far below the reach of any anchor, a beautiful mermaid sat in the ivory sand, tending her garden. The many anemones, coral branches, and leaves of kelp swayed in the current along with the seafoam-green hair of their guardian. Her pretty white hands caressed the leaves as she removed the pesky bits of seaweed from their plot. Her eyes, the same blue as the sea she lived in, darted over the plants, filled with pride in her garden. Two pink starfish clung to her hair like barnacles and a shell of the same color hung from her neck by a blue ribbon. Her silver tail dangled from the rocks surrounding her garden, the blue fins etching little patterns in the sand. The mermaid princess Brina hummed happily to her flowers in a voice so beautiful it could launch a thousand ships, unaware that five other mermaids were hiding behind a nearby rock, ready to jump out at her.

"SURPRISE!!!! Happy birthday, Brina!"

Brina's five older sisters, Aquafina, Oceane, Misty, Coraline, and Liat; leapt from behind the rock, each holding a gift. Laughing, they tackled their sister to the ground.

"By Poseidon, I never expected this!" Brina gasped when they had all sufficiently calmed down. "All this fuss! You never had to do this."

"Oh, why shouldn't we celebrate?" Aquafina asked, tossing her sky-blue hair and handing Brina a conch shell formed of the finest gold under the sea.

"It's not every day our little sister turns sixteen!" added Oceane, placing a pearl the size of her fist into Brina's lap.

"Little Brina has grown so much!" Misty teased. She revealed a bag woven of seaweed and strung with shells from behind her back and placed it around Brina's neck.

"Happy birthday, Little Sister." Coraline whispered, undoing the clasp of a mother-of-pearl ornament in her black hair and attaching it to her sister's.

Liat silently spread her purple tail on the rock's beside Brina's, her matching hair blending with that of her sister. Smiling, she fastened a blue sea-glass bracelet around Brina's wrist.

"Happy sixteenth, Brina. I'm sorry my gift isn't as flashy as the others."

Brina smiled at her sister. "It's my favorite." She whispered, and turning to her other sisters, said "Thank you all for these beautiful gifts. I love them all! You are so sweet for giving me such a wonderful surprise."

Aquafina giggled. "Well, that's only the beginning! Now, we have to get you back to the castle. Grandmother is waiting. It's time for your ceremony! You are of age. You can finally see the surface of the ocean as you have always wanted to!"

Brina flushed with excitement, not believing that this was finally happening. She was at last going to see the surface! She was going to see for herself what lay beyond the underwater world. Her sisters, each one year older than the last, had all been there before and said that it was a beautiful world, covered in strange plants, animals, and houses. All of them came back with many stories of the world above, which Brina recalled as they raced through the current, over the sand to a giant pink palace, made of coral.

Five years ago, Aquafina had turned sixteen and gone to the surface for the first time. She had burst through the waves, swam for a few hours, and found a large sandbar in the middle of the sea. Climbing onto the pearly-white sand and lying down in the moonlight, Aquafina had stared at a nearby town, its odd houses lit up in the night, listening to the ominous, mournful clanging coming from the towers in what she assumed was the town palace. Brina, hearing her story, had longed to see this strange spectacle and to hear the song of whatever must live in the tower.

Four years ago, it was Oceane's turn. When she went up to the surface, she was greeted by what looked like a blazing fire in what she assumed was the surface of the surface. Many colors: reds, pinks and oranges flitted about the horizon, surrounding a large golden ball. Oceane had been frightened of this and dove back into the water. Brina, however, wanted to see this spectacle. It seemed harmless. Oceane was afraid of everything she didn't understand. Brina was sure that as usual, Oceane had misjudged her fear.

Misty was the brave sister. Three years ago, when she turned sixteen, Misty had swum far away from the kingdom of the merpeople to a broad river which ran through a forest. Swimming along this river, she saw a variety of what she described as tall, brown reefs of coral, topped with dry seaweed; brown "sand" constituting the ground, grey rocks everywhere. Fish covered in strange, soft scales flew throughout the air, and odd-looking creatures which she assumed were lobsters with funny red-and-white fuzz and long tails instead of shells gamboled about the area. She had stayed for hours, watching the creatures in their woodland home, until the sun set, when she ventured back into the ocean, full of exciting memories. Brina, hearing her stories, delighted in imagining the strange creatures in the world above.

Two years ago, it was timid Coraline who went to the surface. Coraline, however, seemed to have gotten cold fins. All day she procrastinated from enjoying her new freedom, until finally her older sisters forced her up through the waves into the world above. When she got there, the dolphins were out playing in the waves. Coraline, losing all her fear in her love for dolphins, grabbed onto one and rode it all over the surface. This seemed like fun to Brina, and she decided that when she was old enough, she was going to try it.

Finally, last year, it was Liat's turn. Due to the fact that Liat was born in the winter, she saw a different surface than her sisters did. The water was grey when she broke through. Tall, icy cones peppered the surface, and Liat sat on one as the chilly air made her feel as if she were freezing to death. Needless to say, Liat's surface excursion ended quickly. Brina felt sorry for her. Liat had gotten the bad end of the surface deal. Brina was grateful that she, being born in the spring, would not have to shiver on her first trip to the surface.

At last the group was inside the Great Coral Palace. Smiling proudly, Brina knelt before the throne of the Sea Queen, who clamped a scallop to each of her tailfins and wound a cord of pearls around her tail, symbolizing that Brina was now a woman. After warning her granddaughter that humans could be dangerous, the Queen sent her floating happily up to the surface, ready to begin her adventure.

Meanwhile, on the surface of the sea, another person hoped for adventure. A young man stood on the deck of a ship gliding over the surface. He wore a loose white shirt and brown leather pants and his feet were bare. His blond curls blew in the salty wind as he pulled on a rope attached to a sail, his blue eyes narrowed with frustration, his face being sprayed with the salty ocean water crashing in waves over his boat. If you were to look at him, you would never be able to tell he was royalty. But he was. This man was Prince Chandler, son of Rapunzel and her Prince.

Chandler sighed in frustration as he secured the sail. Two months at sea so far and nothing had happened! He'd had a ship built, he'd hired a crew, he'd even taken one of the royal navy captains, a chubby, pompous old man, along with him as his advisor at his father's urging, and for what? No buried treasure to unearth, no besieged towns to save, no lost cities to discover, heck, there hadn't even been a sea monster attack! Chandler was getting very bored with this voyage. Aside from all this, he realized guiltily that he hadn't written to Beauty in a while. Chandler loved his peasant cousin very much. Beauty was the only girl he had ever met who wasn't a prissy, delicate little thing, obsessed with looking beautiful and only interested in him because he was a prince. No, Beauty was refreshingly down to earth. She didn't care about money, or gems, or riches. One would never find Beauty droning on and on about some stupid, irrelevant topic, such as someone's nonexistent social blunder at one event or another. Instead, Beauty loved adventure. Chandler knew that she wanted to see the world, and that his uncle would not allow her to do so. He empathized with her. After all, who would want to stay cooped up at home when there's a whole world out there just within reach? To compensate his cousin, Chandler would send her a letter at least twice a month, describing his latest discoveries, and various happenings which had occurred aboard ship. But this month, there was nothing to tell! _I can see the letter now_, he thought grimly. _My Dear Cousin, are you well? Life aboard ship has become quite monotonous. Today I battled a minnow. _Beauty would want to throw herself under a giant's foot before she read any more! Sighing, Chandler leaned over the side of the ship. This journey was pointless if nothing was to happen in its duration.

Splash! Brina gracefully broke through the waves, tossing back her hair as she came up. She felt excitement tingle up and down her spine as she opened her eyes and began to swim around in circles, not sure what to look at first. This was the surface! _I've dreamed of this for as long as I can remember_, she excitedly mused, _and now I'm finally here! _As she gazed up into the sun, feeling its heat burn her face, a seagull swooped down out of the air and tried to steal a shell from her hair. Frightened, Brina slapped at it with her hands, trying to scare it away. _So these must be the fish. Annoying little creatures. _ With a final smack to the beak, Brina sent the bird squawking away. _Glad I got rid of THAT thing! Now, what am I going to do first?_ No sooner had Brina thought this than a giant, brown object sped on top of the water right towards her. Terrified, she dove out of the way. What WAS that thing? Cautiously, she inched towards it. The vessel was at least half as wide and tall as her palace, and at least twice as long. A carving graced the front of it, made of a brown coral Brina had never seen before. It was a mermaid, like her.

"Hello!" Brina called, wondering what the other mermaid was doing attached to the front of this mysterious object.

The mermaid did not answer. _Rude_, Brina thought, her eyes moving higher and higher up the mysterious object. What appeared to be tall, thin pieces of driftwood stood atop the object, attached to some mysterious white pieces of seaweed blowing in the wind. The creature standing on top of the object, however, was what really caught Brina's attention. A pale, muscular creature stared over the side of the object, his blond hair blowing in the salty spray. Brina felt as if he were looking right at her. She knew exactly what he was. Her grandmother had described his kind many times. This was a human. The Sea Queen had always told her granddaughters that humans were not to be associated with. A mermaid could not live on land, and a human could not live in the water. Trying to create a relationship with a human would therefore be pointless. Humans could also be very dangerous. They were known eaters of fish. Brina had been told some grisly stories of merpeople who had been caught by mistake, their tails chopped off and cooked for the consumption of the barbaric humans. Yes, Young Mermaids, humans were trouble. Yet, as Brina looked at this human, she could not help but wonder if maybe the Sea Queen was wrong. The human looked so handsome. Brina blushed to the shade of a lobster looking at him. _I wish I were a human too_, she mused, _then I could be his._

As Chandler gazed out at the horizon, sighing and wallowing in self-pity, he heard a cracked, old voice behind him.

"Your Highness, it looks to me like there be a storm brewin'. You'd better get belowdecks."

Chandler turned around to find the Captain right behind him. He sighed.

"A storm. That would certainly be welcome news on this monotonous journey."

"Aye, Lad," the Captain sighed. "When you've been sailing the seas for as long as I have, you'll welcome monotony such as this." He started to move away from Chandler, who was now gazing up at the sky in hopeful anticipation of the storm and twiddled his thumbs, chewing on the pipe between his lips.

"Yep, you'll welcome it all right. You'll welcome it…."

Thirty minutes later, Brina was still staring at the man on the ship. She could not stop thinking about him. _He is so handsome. There's never been anyone like him under the sea. I'll bet he's every bit as kind as he is handsome- he has to be, didn't he help that other human about five minutes ago when he was having trouble tying that rough length of kelp to that giant piece of driftwood? I must have him. Oh, Grandmother would never approve, of course. It's always "humans are not like us," "stick with your own kind," "why stoop to the level of those mortals with no proper fins," and, her favorite, "remember Girls, always carry yourselves with the utmost decorum. Remember, we are mermaids, not clumsy humans with their ill-breeding."What utter nonsense. I must have that human. I must. _ BOOM! An earshattering clap of thunder resonated from the skies, jarring Brina from her thoughts. A bolt of lightning jolted into the water as Brina jumped. As the rain began pouring, Brina, frightened, made ready to jump back underwater, but a force inside her held her back at the last moment. She had to make sure her human got inside the floating object safely, where she assumed he would be protected from the storm. Swallowing her fear, she stared at the object, hoping that her human would be all right.

On the ship, Chandler was busily trying to secure the rigging as the wind blew relentlessly, threatening to send the sailors flying overboard. _Well, this is certainly some excitement_, he surmised. _How ironic that it actually IS a storm! _No sooner had he thought these thoughts than he noticed a flash of lightning hitting the hull of the ship, setting it on fire and burning a hole into the hold of the ship a few feet above the sea. Chandler gasped. His gunpowder was in there! If the hold exploded, the ship would be destroyed, taking the lives of Chandler and all of his men with it. Chandler would not let that happen. He believed that it was a prince's duty to protect his subjects. The personal cost did not matter if whatever risk taken by the prince was effective in protecting his subjects. Ignoring the Captain's scream of "Prince Chandler! What are you doing? You'll get yourself killed," he grabbed a bucket from the side of the deck, filled it with water from a wave that crashed against the side of the ship, and raced belowdecks in order to begin put out any fires, shouting the alarm as he went to enlist the crew's assistance. Sadly, the Prince was too late to prevent an explosion. No sooner had he burst belowdecks than a barrel of gunpowder caught on fire ignited by the lightning bolt and exploded, blowing the Prince through the hole in the ship right before the eyes of the terrified Captain, crew, and Brina. The Prince disappeared below the waves as more barrels of gunpowder began exploding and the storm raged on. Throwing all caution to the wind in her concern over the handsome human, Brina dove below the waves, determined to find him and to save him from drowning if, hopefully, he was still alive.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the Woods, five days had passed since Chip's departure. In his absence, his family became busier than they'd been all year. For the two weeks he would be gone, it fell to them to complete all of his duties as well as their own. Cinderella arose before the sun every morning. Yawning and trying to force herself to be alert she would load the stove with wood and start the fire. Then, she would go into the tiny storage closet located at the back of the kitchen and pull out as much flour as was necessary for baking. Finally, she would mix, rise, and endlessly knead all the many different types of dough required to prepare all manner of breads, cakes, pastries and rolls for that day. The rest of the family would wake at roughly the same time as their mother and stepmother, and begin their share of the work. Alfred was forever getting firewood from the woodpile behind the house and keeping the fire in the oven alive. Charlie was in charge of making deliveries all over the village. Mary couldn't do much, being only seven, but she was often called upon to fetch and carry things for her mother and sister. As for Beauty, she was given the task of standing behind the counter and waiting on the customers. She was in the middle of this task when a very undesirable customer entered the store.

"Hello, Beauty! What a surprise to see **you** at the counter, instead of your father!"

A tall, brawny young man entered the shop. He shook his bulging, muscular legs as her entered, mud falling off of his brown leather pants and black hunting boots onto Cinderella's clean floor as he did so. He took a wolf's fur vest off his broad shoulders and hung it haphazardly on a hook. His white shirt barely hid his impressive washboard physique. His brown hair was tied back, and a thin moustache lined his upper lip. Wet, black eyes like those of a dog stared lustfully at Beauty as the man walked up to the counter, coin in hand.

Beauty sighed. "Hello, Raoul." _What a surprise, my foot! He probably asked around the village where he would be able to find me at this hour. It wouldn't be the first time……._ "Yes, my father is away right now, at the annual spring festival in the next kingdom." Beauty turned towards the oven at breakneck speed, to get Raoul's order, and therefore get rid of Raoul as quickly as possible. "I assume you will want your usual order?" Before Raoul could say anything, Beauty had placed a baguette and three loaves of black bread in his arms and taken his coin. "Thank you very much for stopping by. It's honestly been lovely, but I really must go. My stepmother will be needing me in the storage closet. More dough has just risen and I'll have to load it in the oven. So, I suppose, I'll possibly be able to talk later?"

But Raoul had other plans. He leaned over the counter and looked into Beauty's eyes, getting too close to her face for comfort. "Your stepmother can wait. She probably would want you to stay. She would probably agree that it's time you started focusing on more important things than bread dough. Like _me_, for instance."

He flashed a dazzling smile, showing perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth, attempting to entice Beauty into staying with him. Beauty herself forced a smile, meanwhile trying not to inhale her suitor's putrid breath. Raoul went on.

"Honestly, Beauty, it's high time you faced the facts. The reason why you were named 'Beauty' is obvious."

"Um….. Thank you."

"And it is equally obvious that I am the perfect catch. Am I not sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as I'm handsome, and _unmarried_?"

Beauty sighed. She could tell what this was: a proposal. Raoul had been convinced since he began courting her that she, like every other girl in the village, was madly in love with him. He figured that she was only waiting for him to ask, that she would fall swooning at his feet the moment he suggested marriage. Raoul had seriously misjudged Beauty. Beauty could not stand his boorish ways, his lust for hunting, wine and violence; his eternal womanizing. She knew he did not love her for who she was, he only saw her as an ornament because she was beautiful. Besides, if she married him, she would be resigning herself to a boring, uneventful life in the village, completely devoid of adventure and excitement. A life of being Raoul's household drudge. She would rather die. _I wish Father were here_, she thought. _He does not like the men poking about here, trying to woo me. He does not wish to ever give me up. He would make Raoul go away._ Beauty knew it would be only a matter of time before this happened. She knew she had to escape now.

"You forgot 'modest.' Anyway Raoul, it's been lovely, really, but I must be going…"

Raoul, however, did not listen to the girl he was trying to woo. He moved closer to Beauty, flexed his muscles at her, and smiled his largest smile.

"Wait, Beauty." He stepped behind the counter and put his arm around her shoulders. "Now picture this," he added, gesturing with his hands. "A rustic hunting lodge, near the woods. My latest kill is roasting over the fire, smelling delicious. A group of children are playing on the floor with the dogs. There will be about six or seven."

"Dogs?" Beauty sarcastically asked, trying to worm her way out of Raoul's uncomfortable embrace.

"No, Beauty. Strapping boys, exactly like their father in every way! Strong as bulls. Excellent at hunting and sports. Cunning enough to track any wolf in the forest. And possibly one little girl, a sweet, obedient little thing as beautiful as her mother. The mother, meanwhile, will be happily massaging my feet, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world that she is married to me and is part of this perfect scene! Do you know who that woman will be?"

Beauty knew exactly who he meant. She broke his grip and tried to run away, but he grabbed her by the arm.

"You, Beauty.

"I'm sorry, Raoul, but I really must leave. Goodbye!" And before Raoul could say anything, Beauty had sprinted out of the room into the storage closet, where Cinderella was. Raoul snickered, not the least bit daunted.

"She'll be back soon. Women never stay away for long." And with that he left, deciding to return later, when Beauty would be more cooperative.

Beauty leaned against the wall of the storage closet, gasping for breath. Her stepmother sighed. She didn't have to guess what had happened. Every time Raoul showed up, Beauty always ended up sprinting away from him. She really couldn't blame her. Raoul, with his stuck-up, womanizing ways, reminded her of the Prince she had been married to before the giantess attacked the kingdom. He had always thought only of himself too, even saying in his defense, when Cinderella's bird friends told her that he had been cheating on her with some woman, that he was raised to be charming, not sincere. Cinderella never found out who the woman was. She was glad of that. There was too much chance that she knew the woman involved with her husband. If that were the case, she would feel betrayed and angry at the woman, and Cinderella tried to be angry as little as possible. She glanced knowingly at Beauty.

"Raoul?"

Beauty sighed. "Yes." Beauty, flustered, began to pour out all of her emotions about Raoul. "Can you believe it? He asked me to marry him! He came in here, looking as full of himself as ever, and proposed. He went on to tell me about the life I have to look forward to: cleaning his house, cooking his kills, giving birth to children as horribly boorish as he, fawning on him endlessly as if he were some sort of king!" She scoffed. "Me! The wife of that boorish…. Brainless…." Beauty sighed and looked at Cinderella imploringly. "What should I do, Stepmother? If I keep refusing, he will only keep coming back, making attempt after attempt to convince me to be his wife! But if I say yes…."

"You would never be happy. You would never feel as if you are getting what you wished for." Cinderella knowingly finished for her stepdaughter. Taking Beauty's hands in her own, she continued.

"You know what you wish, Beauty. I know this. And while I know that if your mother were alive, she would be telling you to take Raoul's offer, if only for the fact that he is handsome like a prince, I believe that you should follow your heart. When you see your wish, pursue." She smiled. "Beauty, I am going to tell you something that my mother once told me. Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor, and good fortune, like bad, can befall when least expected. Your opportunity will come. The right person for you will arrive someday, or the opportunity to achieve whatever you dream of achieving or possess whatever you dream of possessing. When this opportunity arises, you take it, Beauty! Don't settle for the dissatisfaction of a man you don't love. But, I must warn you. Do not attach yourself to anything that seems perfect. Learn from my past, Beauty. My father's house was a nightmare, the Prince's castle, a dream. Search for something in between."

As Cinderella smiled at her stepdaughter and walked off to finish her work, Beauty pondered what she had just said. _Look for something in between. Meaning not so awful as to constitute a nightmare, but not so wonderful as to qualify as a dream._ This made no sense to Beauty. Her life in the village was no dream, but for all its annoying qualities, Raoul aside, she didn't think it was much of a nightmare either. _Is she trying to tell me to not marry Raoul, but to still forfeit the adventurous life I dream about?_ That didn't make sense either. But then, she had also said to pursue her wishes. Feeling confused, Beauty also returned to her work, praying that Raoul would not return and that she would someday see the world.

The waves crashed threateningly over Brina's head as she swam, fast as a dolphin, through them. Explosions rose from the ship, blowing pieces of debris all over the blackened waters, threatening to blow the poor mermaid out of the sea. Brina shoved wooden planks aside, cutting her fingers on the sharp nails jetting out of them, in her hurry to find the prince. _Where is he?_ She thought frantically, as another wave took her under. _I have to save him._ Bursting up again, she brushed the salt out of her eyes and blinked, scanning the surface of the ocean, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of him. At last she saw him- her human, clinging for dear life to a plank, almost unconscious, about to go under! His fingers slipped, and before Brina could reach him, he was below the waves. Horrified, Brina plunged under the water, twisting about, until she could find him. She grabbed him and pulled with all her might until they burst through the surface.

"It's all right." She whispered. "You're safe. I have you. Nothing is going to harm you now. Stay with me."

The prince moaned in her arms. Reassuringly stroking his back, Brina hoisted him over her shoulder. Confident that now he would be able to safely breathe, she scanned the ocean's surface for an island, a rock, anything solid where she could carry her prince to safety. At last, she saw it. A beach. A white, sandy beach covered in shells, bits of seaweed, and driftwood. _Thank goodness! _It was about five miles away, but it would have to do. Taking a deep breath, she thrashed her tail for dear life, racing towards the shore. Many waves crashed over her, almost sinking her. Somehow she kept the prince's head above water. After many minutes of paddling furiously, she finally made it to the shore. There, she gently laid her prince on the sand and collapsed beside him, exhausted.

"Hello?" She asked, taking his head in her hands, marveling at the smoothness of his pale skin. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

He made no answer. Panicked, Brina placed his head on the ground and put hers on his chest. Yes! A heartbeat! He was alive! Taking the prince in her arms, Brina felt dizzy looking at him. It was as if a thousand electric eels had shocked her right in the heart. Looking at him, Brina felt as if, although she was soaking wet, she was on fire. This was good. This was right. This handsome human must be hers. Stroking his hair as he moaned, Brina began to sing to him.

"**Sure as a wave needs to be near the shore you are the one I was intended for. Deep in your eyes, I saw our God's design. Now my life is forever yours…and you are mine.**"

In his stupor, the Prince squirmed closer to his rescuer. Brina laughed and held his head to her shoulder, pressing hers into his hair.

"**I am a kelp holding away the storm. Here in my arms, I'll keep you safe and warm. My grandmother won't dare to cross this line where my life is forever yours… and you are mine. Mine!**"

Pressing him closer to her body, she held the prince tight, feeling him move and awaken as she sang passionately and the storm ended.

"**We'll sail away on a ship as silver as the moon. And the storm will turn to sun. On an island where the earth and sea are one! Sure as this night leads to a sky of blue. Sure as my heart led me to be with you. Surely our God meant this to be a sign that my life is forever yours… and you are mine.**"

Suddenly, Brina heard a cry of "Prince Chandler!" The Captain from the ship was leaping out of a shallop and running towards them! Quick as a flash, Brina laid her human down, dove into the water, and swam behind a nearby rock- just as Prince Chandler came spluttering back to life.

"Prince Chandler!" The Captain ran up to the Prince and helped him to sit. "While I know it is not my place, Lad, you are probably the craziest man I have ever met! You could have been killed…. Your Highness, are you listening to me? Your father appointed me as your advisor and…. Your Highness?

Chandler was not paying any attention to him. Instead, he gazed out over the surface of the calming waters. "Where is she?"

"Where is who, Your Highness?"

"Her. The woman who saved me. Who sang to me."

The Captain was puzzled. The Prince must have been hallucinating.

"Maybe you were hearing a memory of a song you heard from your mother. Yes, that must be it. Princess Rapunzel was quite a singer, may God rest her soul." He went on. "There was nobody with you on the beach, Your Highness. You must be mistaken. You must have only luckily washed up on the sand."

Chandler walked out farther. "I don't think so. There was a woman here. She sang to me. And I owe her my life. I'm going to find her, and if she'll have me I will marry her!" Staring headlong at the sea, he sang. "**Sure as this night leads to a sky of blue…. So sure, Fair Maid, someday I'll be with you! Angel of Sea, who swam with me to shore…"**

Behind her rock, Brina heard this and smiled, delighted that her human- her _Chandler_- loved her too.

"**Now your life is forever mine!"**

The Captain led Chandler away from the water's edge, shaking his head as Chandler proclaimed his love.

"**Your life is forever mine!**"

Happily, Brina sank beneath the waves.

"**And I am… yours."**

Nine days later, it was nighttime in the baker's cottage. Cinderella, Beauty, Charlie, Alfred and Mary were in the kitchen, awaiting his return. Worry streaked their faces. Chip had been due to arrive that morning, and morning, afternoon, and evening had come and gone with no sign of him. Cinderella put down her knitting, left her chair by the oven, and walked over to the window. Sighing, she peered out, hoping to catch a glimpse of her husband driving his cart back into the yard. No such luck. _Oh, I wish my husband were at home, safe_, she thought. _I hope nothing has happened to him._

"Mother?" Mary whimpered, twisting her pink flannel nightgown in her small hands and squirming in Beauty's lap; which caused slight annoyance to her sister, who was trying to braid her hair, "Where is Father?"

Alfred, who was whittling by the fire with Charlie, glared at Mary.

"None of us know, all right? So for the last time, stop asking." In reality, Alfred was worried, too. It wasn't like Chip to be late returning from anything. Alfred was just as scared as the rest of his family that something terrible had happened. However, being boys, he and his brother were convinced that they had to be brave, to set a good example for the women. So he pretended to be annoyed with his sister.

"Alfred!" Cinderella scolded. To Mary, she said "I'm sure your father's fine, Darling. He probably just got lost."

"Not Father." Mary insisted. "He knows everything!"

Charlie laughed. "Nobody knows everything, Mary."

Beauty nodded. "He's right. But don't worry, he'll be home soon, I'm sure of it. Now please, hold still so I can finish with your hair."

As Mary relaxed in her lap, and she picked up another section of hair, Beauty heard a noise. Was it what she thought it was? She listened again. Hoofbeats! And the unmistakable rolling of wheels. A cart was coming!

"Stepmother, I think I hear a cart coming. Is it Father?"

Cinderella turned towards the window. When she looked back at her family, there was a smile on her face.

"Yes! Yes, he's home! Your father's home!"

The family leapt up from where they sat and raced towards the door, eager to receive Chip. But they were met with a terrible shock. The door flew open. Chip dashed inside, slammed it behind him, threw the bar across the door as if it were on fire, and stood, back against the door, panting. His hair was disheveled, his spectacles were askew, his jacket had new tatters in it, and he was holding his hat in his hand, along with a small, cloth bundle, from which a few roses as red as rubies protruded. White as a sheet and shaking with fear, he somehow managed to scream.

"Lock the doors! Bar the windows! It wants Beauty!!!!!!!!"

_WHAT wants Beauty? Find out in the next chapter! Oh, and the song is "Forever Yours" from "Once on This Island." I thought it fit because "Once on This Island" is based on "The Little Mermaid" and I will let you all know now that I am not, I repeat, NOT using any song from any Disney version of this stuff. You have been notified. I think, however, that this should have songs, because, being a sequel to a musical, by rights it should be a musical._

_Sorry for the delay, everyone. I know, I know, this took even longer than last time. Still, reviews, good. Flames…. We've been through this already, haven't we?_


	4. Chapter 4

_And here we are at Chapter Four! _

Chip stood in front of the door, panting, hyperventilating, sweat dripping down his face as he shivered. His family reeled back, stunned. What had happened to him? What had he seen that could bring him to this state of shock? Chip's bundle slipped from his arms as he shook, falling to the ground with a soft _thud_, and Beauty had to hold Mary back to keep her from pouncing on the carnation pink silk ribbon that tumbled out. Terrified, Cinderella rushed up to her husband. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she shook him gently, desperately trying to bring him to composure.

"What, Dear? Tell us! What wants Beauty?!"

Chip continued to shake with only soft moans escaping from his lips. Terrified, Charlie ran to a cabinet in the back of the shop, threw the door open and grabbed a tin mug. Within seconds the lad had filled it with water from a barrel at the side of the kitchen, which he rushed up to his father and threw at him.

"Father!" He cried. "Speak to us! What has happened? What wants Beauty?"

"SAY SOMETHING!!!!" Cinderella shrieked. Mary, frightened out of her seven-year-old mind, retreated behind her sister, whimpering. Alfred made ready to rush outside in search of a neighbor who might be able to help Chip. Finally, sputtering and coughing, the Baker yelled out an answer.

"A b-b-beast!!! A horrible, m-monstrous beast!"

Cinderella dropped her husband in shock. _Has my Chip gone mad_, she wondered in her anxiety. _He cannot be_, she attempted to convince herself. _Most likely he ran into some young man on his way home who expressed an interest in Beauty's hand in marriage. Probably that Raoul fellow. He's not the most desirable prospect for a son-in-law, is he? Not to mention poor Beauty despises him. Yes, that must be it. _

"Now Chip, I know that Raoul's personality and manner may leave a few things to be desired, but that doesn't give you the right to call him a 'horrible, monstrous beast.'" Cinderella chided, her voice shaking. Chip shook his head wildly, the pupils in his eyes dilating with fear. His voice rose and fell several octaves as he attempted to explain.

"Cinderella, I don't mean Raoul. I mean a beast! A horrible, ugly, hideous beast with teeth that could bite through a man's bone and claws sharp enough to rip mortar to shreds! I came upon a castle on my way home and a beast was inside and there were roses in the garden and I took some and the beast caught me and he attacked me and he told me that if he were to spare my life in return he wanted…. Oh, Beauty, Beauty!" The Baker sobbed, rushing to his daughter and taking her in his arms. Chip pressed Beauty close to his chest, smothering her in his bone-crushing embrace, soaking her red hair with his tears. Beauty herself tried to return his embrace, but found her arms immobile. She shivered in wonder as her father continued to cry. Her eyes unblinking, her face completely motionless, she stood as if frozen, trapped in her confusion and fright. She tried to speak comfort to him, but no sound arose however she contracted her vocal cords. All Beauty could do was to watch, helpless, as her father succumbed to hysteria. Cinderella hurried to the cupboard to find another glass, which she filled with water before running to Beauty's rescue. Gently but firmly, she pried her husband off of his daughter, helped him to a chair, and handed the glass to him with an order to drink it. Chip obeyed and, panting, began to slowly regain his composure.

"Now, tell us what happened," Cinderella coaxed, rubbing his back. "From the beginning."

"All… all right." Chip spluttered. "I was driving through the woods, nearly home. The sky was going dark…"

Flashback!..........

_**The horse plodded along through the quickly darkening forest, dragging the now-empty old cart behind him. On top of the cart, Chip the Baker sat, his hands grasping the reigns tightly, humming a tune in his happiness. By tomorrow morning, if he made minimal stops along the way, he would be home first thing the next morning. He could hardly wait to pull up in front of his door, to walk inside, to see the smiling faces of his family. To be home to stay until next year's spring festival arrived. The festival had been exactly the success he had predicted it would be- no sooner had Chip arrived at the festival grounds and begun to set up his tables and lay out his wares, than he was overrun by a dozen townspeople, eager to sample his delicious breads, to devour his renowned sweets, to make off with as many buns and rolls as they could carry. This dozen led to many more, and soon there was a large crowd around Chip's wares, a crowd which reappeared every day for the festival's ten-day duration. As had happened every year since he began selling his baked goods at the Spring Festival, Chip left completely bought out, every crumb being sold to the hungry hands of the local peasants. Chip's pockets were heavy with every kind of coin the realm had to offer and he was filled with excitement over the impending fulfillment of his family's wishes. Whenever he could spare a moment from his business, therefore, he would browse around at the other tables on the green in search of gifts for his family. Over the ten days of the festival, his search had produced a beautiful pair of brown mules for Cinderella, lined with the softest wool he could afford; two manly hunting knives for the boys, with incredibly realistic woodland scenes carved into their oak handles; and a charming hair ribbon of carnation pink silk for Mary. **_

_** Thinking of this, however, Chip's face fell in disappointment. He had found gifts for every member of his family except for one: he had been unable to secure roses for Beauty. The florist at the festival had had even greater fortune than Chip- every rose in his inventory had been sold before the first day was out. Desperate, the Baker had looked at all of the other flowers that the man had to offer: butter-yellow daffodils, snow-white, delicate daisies; exotic tiger lilies; many different flowers of every conceivable shade and size. However, none of these had appeared good enough, in Chip's eyes, to compensate for Beauty's desired rose bouquet. When he had taken down his stand at the end of the festival, therefore, Chip had resolved to search for roses for Beauty on his way home. Maybe he would have better luck then. Perhaps he would find a merchant on his way who could sell him a bouquet equally as lovely as those that the florist had sold out of so quickly. However, his search had been fruitless. He had not run into a single florist on his journey. Chip felt like a failure. His beloved Joanna's daughter deserved only the best he could provide, and here he was empty-handed. **__What kind of a father am I?__** He wondered. **__When Beauty was born, Joanna and I promised ourselves that we would see that she was so happy. And now look at me! I can't even find her a decent bunch of flowers! This should really be easy after searching for those strange ingredients to conceive her in the first place. __**Chip knew in his heart that Beauty wouldn't care if he didn't find the roses, that she would be happy simply to see him safely at home. However, he was not about to allow himself to return home without a gift for her, seeing as he was able to find them for the rest of his family. No, Beauty deserved the best. And Chip wanted her to have it.**_

_** As the disappointed Baker continued to drive, a mist began to appear throughout the woods. An hour later, fog covered the woods like a cloud of flour being dumped into Chip's bread dough, obstructing his view of the path. As if blinded, Chip swerved the horse back and forth, unsure which direction he was going in. He had no way to tell if he was still on the road towards home or if he were headed back to the other kingdom. He had no idea what to do, where to travel, or even if he should just stop for a while. Fear began to creep up his spine as hours went by and he still could not tell where he was. At this point, Chip had forgotten the roses. All he wanted now was to get home to his family safely. Finally, after Chip had been driving his cart in circles for about five hours, he heard a clap of thunder. Beginning in a slow drizzle, the rain began to fall. Soon, it was coming down in torrents, drenching the Baker. He knew then that he would have to find shelter. For an hour, Chip spurred his horse on. Just when he was about to give up hope and try again to make a run for home, his horse refused to go further. Chip, confused, looked up and saw the reason for this happening immediately: the horse was standing in front of the tallest, widest stone structure Chip had ever seen. Its very masonry bespoke a majestic quality: the stones appeared to be pure granite, the mortar a composite of marble and spurned brass. Curious, he steered the horse around the building, looking for the entrance, hoping that maybe it was possible that he could take shelter within. Finally, after about half an hour, he found himself face-to-face with the tallest double-doors he had ever seen. At least three stories tall and carved of a deep brown, almost black wood with door handles of pure silver and a knocker of solid gold; these doors loomed over him, sending an intimidating message: **__ENTER IF YOU DARE__**. Shuddering, the Baker considered turning around and continuing on his way. As he was about to do this, however, another clap of thunder burst from the sky. The horse whinnied and reared, madness sparkling in its eyes. That decided it. Chip was going to have to seek shelter here. Looking around the corner of the castle, he spotted an open stable, in which he shut his horse for the night. Having finished this, the Baker dashed back to the doors and, shuddering, opened them.**_

_** "Hello?" He called. "Is anyone there?" He walked down the castle's dimly lit, marble hall looking in every direction to see who he was intruding upon. "The reason I'm here is, there is a storm brewing outside. I'm a traveler, you see, and I'm lost in the woods and in need of a place to stay, if it's not too much trouble…" There was no answer. "Hello?" Exasperated, Chip looked up to see a door open onto a dimly-lit parlor. "Thank you!" He called to no one in particular, warily stepping into the room. His feet immediately touched on a red mahogany floor. The Baker looked up, astounded. Everything in the room bespoke royalty and grandeur. A large, red Persian rug covered the floor. A granite fireplace, in which a roaring fire had been started, took up the entire back wall of the room. The right wall was comprised of a window partially masked by crimson velvet curtains. In the center of the room rested a large, mahogany table on which rested a stew, a glass of wine, and a loaf of bread The table was flanked on either side by red velvet chairs and a couch of the same color faced it. The legs on these seating elements, Chip noted with amazement, were gilded. **__What in the world?__** He laid his coat down on the sofa and strode over to the fireplace. Above it hung an expensive-looking portrait in a gold frame, out of which glared two figures, male and female. The man's grey eyes flashed fire at the peasant, his black hair and beard looked as if they had been burned there. His white suit, decorated with a red sash and silver medallions, bespoke not just royalty, but tyranny. The young woman pouted, looking like a child; this did not look well with her elegant purple ball gown and diamonds. Were these the people who had once lived here? Perhaps they lived here now, perhaps they were his hosts. Bewildered, the Baker made his way back to the sofa, ate and slept.**_

_** When the first rays of sunlight peeped into the parlor, its tenant was no longer there. The Baker had already awakened and released his horse. Holding the bridle tightly, he led the horse around the castle at a rapid pace. He had promised to be home that morning and there it was, morning, and he had not even departed yet. As he hurried toward his carriage, however, something caught Chip's eye. Why had he not noticed this before? This was the answer to his predicament! In a cluster in the middle of the courtyard stood a group of rose bushes, boasting flowers of every color imaginable. There were roses as red as rubies, as orange as sunsets, as white as milk. Roses of the same pink as strawberries and of the same sparkling gold as Cinderella's slippers abounded. There were even roses as transparent and luminous as diamonds. These roses undoubtedly put those of the florist at the festival to shame. Chip smiled. Here was his gift for Beauty! Falling to the bush like a madman, he whipped out one of the new hunting knives and began cutting some of the reddest blossoms. He was halted abruptly, however, when a soft rustling began to emanate from the bushes. Chip turned, wondering what made the sound. The rustling grew louder and louder and drew nearer and nearer until finally, a streak of grey leapt roaring from the bush the Baker was cutting his flowers from. He dropped his newest blossom as a soft, leathery object gripped him around the neck and lifted him off his feet, its sharp claws digging small gashes in his skin.**_

_** "Thief! Robber! How dare you steal from my rose bushes?"**_

_** Quivering, the Baker slowly lifted his eyes open and gasped at what he saw. His neck was being held by a grey, shaggy paw. This paw was attached to what appeared to be a wolf. Yet was it a wolf? Chip noted in horror that this was the most fearsome wolf he had ever laid eyes on. Standing taller than the Baker, the creature was covered in grey matted fur, caked with dirt and blood. It wore nothing but a pair of black silk trousers, which could hardly go by the name anymore, such was their tattered state. The large paws that served as its feet crushed the bundle of gifts that Chip had been stuffing the roses into, their knifelike claws etching scars in the ground. The neck of the creature was beset by a lion's mane of the same dingy grey as its fur, and razor-sharp ivory horns, resembling those of a bull protruded from its head. Small glints of rage glimmered in its grey eyes and as it snarled at the Baker, it bared teeth as menacing as the claws.**_

_** "Speak, Peasant! How did you come by the gall, the nerve to steal my roses, after I have allowed you to pass the night in my castle? First you disturb my solitude, and then you steal from me!" The Beast raged, drawing the frightened Chip closer to its jaws. "I demand one reason why I should not rip you to shreds this very moment!" The Beast loomed closer over him, its jaws wide open, ready to bite down on the Baker's shoulder. Shuddering, Chip found his voice.**_

_** "P-please, S-sir, I only intended to take a few roses, a-as a g-gift for my daughter!" The Beast's muscles relaxed for an instant, as it cocked its head to the side, as if to say **__your daughter_? _**Still shaking, Chip continued. "Y-yes. I am a b-baker, you see. I have recently been s-selling my wares at a f-festival in the next kingdom. I p-promised to b-buy my daughter some roses with the m-money I earned. However, I had n-no luck securing any for her. You had b-been so g-good to me… and I figured you wouldn't m-miss a few blossoms! Please, have mercy! I am only b-being a loving father!"**_

_** The Beast loosened its grip on Chip, but continued to glare at him, anger radiating from its entire body. "So you've a daughter, have you? Very well then, Baker. I shall spare your sorry life." Chip sighed, relieved. The Beast growled menacingly and continued. "In exchange, you shall bring your daughter here, and you will leave her with me. Your daughter's life for yours."**_

_** Chip was instantly filled with new terror and agony at this statement. He would lose Beauty to this creature, most likely to be eaten, judging from the creature's behavior. Frantic, he protested. "No, please! Anything but that! Please do not punish my daughter for my error! She is young, she's barely a woman! She is pure and innocent. It isn't her fault that I stole your flowers! Please, Sir, whatever you do, please don't harm my precious daughter!" **_

_** The Beast, however, refused to be moved. "You will return here bearing your daughter, Peasant Rat." He grinned evilly. "If the girl is not on these grounds soon, I will come after you, and it WILL be your life. One way or another, your debt will be repaid. Now leave my land!" With that, he roughly dropped the Baker and pounced back into the bushes. Filled with a fear equaling only that which he had felt on sight of the giantess long ago, Chip gathered his bundle and leapt on his horse, spurring it on until he had reached the wagon. Once there he jumped off and hitched the horse to the cart, his hands shaking. Jumping on board, he began to drive blindly in his growing hysteria. How long he drove, he did not know. He thought only of getting home and of finding some way of protecting Beauty from the fate he had inadvertently brought on her. Finally, after night had fallen, the terrified Baker reached home.**_

Flashback ends…..

The kitchen was enveloped in silence. A heavy cloud of tension hovered over the family, and nobody could find a word to lift it. Chip shivered, still clutching his now-empty water glass. Cinderella crouched behind him, gently rubbing his back. Mary sat in the chair next to him, whimpering in fright, her face buried in her hands. Alfred leaned against the door, staring at his father, his eyes as big as coins. Charlie had his arm around Mary, in an attempt to comfort her, and he stared as hard as his brother. Only Beauty, who had been speechless since her father's arrival, finally spoke. She spoke two words, the exact two words Chip had hoped she would not say.

"I'll go."

The Baker gasped. "Beauty, you don't know what you're saying!"

"Yes," the girl argued, passion rising in her voice. "I do. I know exactly what I'm saying, Father. I will go to the beast in your place."

"No, Beauty, you will not! Didn't you listen to what I told you? If you go, you'll die!"

"And if I stay, you will!"

"That's enough!" Cinderella interrupted. "Charlie, please take Alfred and Mary and go to bed." Her son began to protest. "Now, Charlie. This is between your father, Beauty and I." Sulking, the lad motioned to his siblings, who followed him through the door to their parents' room. Concern radiating from her face, Cinderella sat down beside Beauty. "Beauty, sweetheart, I know you only have your father's best interest at heart, but you don't have to sacrifice your own life."

"Yes, I do. Those roses were meant to be for me, Stepmother. It's entirely my fault that the beast wants Father. It's only just that I go in his stead."

"You can't!" the Baker exclaimed.

"I must, Father!"

"I won't let you throw your life away, Beauty!"

"But you won't save yours? Think of your family, Father! Think of your wife, my stepmother. Think of Charlie, of Alfred, of Mary! They need you here. You have a responsibility to them. I have no spouse. I have no children. Therefore, am able to sacrifice myself for you, because I have a responsibility towards you. I love you, Father! I don't want to see you be killed! Please, let me prevent it!" Beauty was by now on her knees, imploring him.

"Beauty," Chip, in hysterics, attempted desperately to sway her. "You have forgotten my responsibility towards you! You are my beloved daughter. I fought giants for you. I broke a curse for you. I've already lost your mother, Beauty! "

"Then please, let me return the favor! Let me face the beast in your stead! You need to value your own life, Father, and I cannot believe you do not put enough import on it to allow me to preserve it!"

Cinderella, sensing an argument coming on, wisely intervened. "It's late. It's very late, and we've all been through an emotionally trying time. Why don't we all go to bed, and in the morning we can discuss this rationally and try to find an alternative?" Without a word, they separated and went to bed. _What alternative is there, _Beauty thought as she made her way out of the room towards her own. _There is none. _

An hour or two had turtled by, and Beauty was still awake. Lying on her back in the pitch dark, she twisted the blanket around herself, trying to make herself comfortable that she might slip away into unconsciousness. Try as she might, however, she could not coax her mind into relaxation. Every time she shut her eyes, a vision appeared of the beast tearing its way through the walls of her house as if they were paper. Throwing various objects aside in his search for her father. Finding the Baker cowering under the counter of the shop, or in the storage closet, or under a bed. Messily, bloodily devouring him as Beauty looked on, powerless to stop the creature. She heard its bloodchilling roar in the back of her mind, and she shivered, goosebumps gathering all over her body. _And I cannot do anything about this because Father will not put enough value on his own life to allow me to save him. _Beauty sighed. It was horrible enough that she had lost her mother. At the very least she had never been able to really know her. True, she missed Joanna, but she had never really known who the woman was. No matter how many stories Chip had told his daughter about her real mother, Beauty had never been able to understand Joanna's personality as she would have had the giant never come. Yet to lose her father, the loving, devoted figure who had always been there to lend her a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on, the man who had protected her from harm all of her life, that would be absolutely devastating. _Somehow,_ she thought, _I've got to make him see that this is the only way. That only by sacrificing me to the creature will he be able to live._

A light kick to the shin interrupted Beauty's musings. She smiled and turned over to look at her sister, who was fast asleep. Mary was so sweet. She deserved the same upbringing that Beauty had experienced: two parents who put their children's safety and happiness before everything else in this world. And if Beauty could have her way, Mary would have more than she had. Mary deserved to have both of her birth parents alive to see her grow up. She deserved to have Chip in her life. Beauty would rather have died than see her siblings grow up without their father. Rolling over onto her back again, Beauty stared at the ceiling, reminiscing on all the wonderful times she had shared with her father as a little girl: Chip teaching her how to bake all kinds of breads and sweets when she helped him at work, visiting Jack and Red every once in a while, Chip telling her the story of how he and her late mother had ventured into the woods to break the spell that kept them from having children. Her younger siblings deserved to have all of that. It was then that Beauty knew what she had to do. _I am going to go to that castle and offer myself to the beast. If Father won't take me to it, I'll have to run away and find it for myself!_

Quickly and stealthily, so as not to wake her sister, Beauty leapt out of bed, bunching up the blankets on her side into a large lump. If Little Mary were to awaken in the night after Beauty had left, she would see the mound of covers next to her and think it was her sister, fast asleep. Therefore, in theory the little girl would fall right back asleep, instead of rushing into the next room to alert their parents; and would not notice a thing until morning. Having undertaken this precaution, Beauty silently stumbled to the wardrobe; not allowing herself to light a candle for fear that the prick of light would wake Mary. Instead, she strained her eyes in the darkness, relying on the small portion of moonlight that peeped through her window to guide her way. Finally, she tripped- and caught herself against something hard. The wardrobe! Slowly, carefully, she eased it open. A quick scan found her everyday dress and boots, her necklace hanging beside the dress. Fast as lightning, Beauty yanked her flannel nightgown over her head and off, replacing it with the dress. With slipping fingers, she hastily fastened the sash and the necklace. Softly sitting on the bed, she tied the boots on and, grabbing a hairbrush from the end table, gave her hair a few rushed strokes. She then carefully placed the brush back on the table, hung up the nightgown and shut the wardrobe doors in a way that it would look as if they had never been moved at all. Ready to begin packing for her journey, Beauty made her way over to her sleeping sister. Tears filled her eyes as she kissed her goodbye one last time.

"Goodbye, Mary." She whispered. "You are the only daughter, now. I want you to keep a close watch on Charlie and Alfred for me, you understand? You know how boys are. They're not as wise as us ladies. See that they stay out of mischief." With that, she tiptoed out of the room and shut the door. Beauty then opened the door to the right of hers to a room jetting out of the cottage. This room was originally built for Jack after the giantess attack. Now, it was occupied by Charlie and Alfred, who were snoring away in their bed. Beauty smiled at her brothers, her tears starting to spill.

"Goodbye, Boys. You may have been the most annoying younger brothers in the kingdom, but still, I would have battled wolves, witches, or giants for you any day. Be brave, Charlie. You are the oldest now. I want you to help everyone to support Father. When my mother died, so yours would have it, Father succumbed to grief which he still has not overcome. When I'm gone, I fear he's going to need all the help you can offer simply to keep from going mad. Alfred, I want you to be nicer to Mary. Don't snap at her so much, all right? She's only seven." She closed the door and tiptoed past her room, opening a door on her left. This was the door to her parents' room, the room she would have to cross through to get to the shop and out of the house. Carefully, Beauty opened and closed the door. You could have heard a pin drop as she tiptoed across the room. Opening the door to the shop, she turned back.

"Stepmother, I'm sure from what you've told me about your own stepmother that you must have worried that you would do the job just as horribly. To simply say you did not would be an injustice. If I cannot have my real mother, there is nobody on Earth whom I would rather have had to assume her duties than you, Cinderella. I love you every bit as much as if I had been born to you, and if you cannot see that then I have failed as a stepdaughter. Father…" Here, Beauty began to choke. "Father, I… I hope you know that I only do this because… I love you. I appreciate your breaking a curse… and fighting a giant for me… and I… I wish you happiness and love for the rest of your life… Goodbye!" Tears streaming down her face, Beauty closed the door and entered the shop.

Upon entering the kitchen, Beauty wiped her eyes with her wrist, trying to dry them. _Stop your crying, Beauty! This is no time to be emotional._ She began to calm down. There would be plenty of time to think about the fact that she would never see her family again, and the fact that she was going to die for that matter, while she was in the woods making her way towards the castle. Now, she had to focus. She had to get herself packed to leave and out of the house as quickly as possible. Supposing one of her parents woke up while she was still in the kitchen! Her quest would be stopped before it began. Beauty could not let that happen. Without making a sound, she strode over to the pegs hanging by the front door and grabbed her father's hunting jacket. As she put on the jacket and reached for the Baker's satchel, a glimmer of light caught her eye. Her father's hunting knife! Without thinking twice, Beauty yanked the weapon off its peg and tied it to her waist. Maybe she didn't have to die! Maybe, just maybe if she armed herself, she might have the slightest chance of survival. Maybe she would be able to come home with the beast slain and her father saved! _Maybe this is the adventure I've dreamed of!_, she thought excitedly as her anxiety dissipated into giddy excitement. She silently bustled around the shop, trying to figure out what she would need. Food would be essential- Beauty knew it would be a long walk to the beast's castle and that she would surely become hungry at some point on her journey. In the dim moonlight, she found a small loaf of rye bread still on the counter. Stuffing this into the satchel, she grabbed a canteen from the cabinet and filled it at the barrel, glancing up at the clock on the wall as she did so. Midnight. Beauty had to suppress a laugh at the irony. Here she was going on a life-altering (life-ending, to be more precise) journey and it was MIDNIGHT! This was the same time, so she had been told, that her parents' curse had been lifted and that the Witch had abandoned Cinderella, Jack, Red, Chip, and the infant Beauty to find a way to rid the kingdom of the giantess on their own. That thought in her mind, Beauty racked her brain, the irony adding to the giddiness of her mood. _I feel as if I've forgotten something. Now what is it I've forgotten?_ As if thrown into her mind by her thoughts of the past, an idea came to her. _That's it! Beans! I need beans! _On tiptoe, she rushed to the storage closet and, almost forgetting to open it quietly, she leapt in and began throwing large handfuls of beans into the satchel._ That's right, now I remember. When Father left on his quest to find the ingredients for the Witch's potion, he brought six beans with him, which helped him to secure the cow as white as milk. I can't believe I almost ventured into the woods without-_ She paused. What she was doing did not appear to be logical. She gazed down into the satchel, now half filled with beans, as her face flushed to the color of the roses she had received. Sighing and inwardly reproaching herself for her stupidity, Beauty dumped the beans back into the sack and shut the closet door. What help were plain, ordinary beans going to be on her journey? She could have been caught! Rationalized, Beauty walked resolutely to the counter. Opening a drawer behind it, she produced a charcoal pencil and a slip of paper, with which she penned a note to her family. Finally, Beauty slowly walked up to the door. Taking her mother's shawl from its peg, she wrapped it around her head and gazed up towards the ceiling.

"Mother, I hope that I'm doing the right thing. I feel as if this is what you would have done in my situation, however. Watch over me, Mother. Guide my steps as I endeavor to right this wrong. Show me the way. I fear, though, that I will be with you by this time tomorrow. I don't want to die, Mother, but I am willing to do so if it means that Father will live." Shivering, Beauty left her house for what she assumed to be the last time. As she began her mournful trudge across her yard and into the woods, she softly sang, hoping that her song would give her the strength she would need to complete her journey and to offer herself to the beast without fear.

"**Into the woods, it's time to go. I hate to leave. I have to, though. Into the woods, it's time and so I must begin my journey. Into the woods and through the trees to where I am expected, see. Into the woods to save my father! Into the woods to save my father!"**

Beauty stopped at the edge of the woods, fear tingling up and down her spine. For a fleeting moment, she considered running back home and obeying her father by doing nothing. But no. No! If she just stood aside and took no action to save him, Chip would be eaten. Taking a deep breath, she pressed onward, plunging into the seemingly endless mass of trees.

"**The way is dark. The light is dim. But going means I've rescued him. The chances look small. The choices look grim. **"She sighed, steeling herself. "**No need to be afraid there. Try not to be delayed there. Into the woods and down the dell. The path is straight. I know it well. Into the woods, and who can tell what's waiting on the journey. Into the woods full speed ahead while my family lies in bed. Never can tell what lies ahead. By this time tomorrow, I'll likely be dead. But into the woods! Into the woods! Into the woods to save my father and-hopefully-back!**"

Two hours later, Beauty was now well along the path. Her nerves had begun to settle with time, and now she was as calm as if she were only walking through her house. Her confidence had also bloomed since she left the house; two hours had gone and so far she had not been apprehended. This luck gave Beauty the feeling that she needn't worry about anyone stopping her now. At the rate she was going, even if her parents were to awaken right now and through some process of deduction realize that she was gone they would never be able to catch up with her. Beauty would be able to save her father. She had known that running away to find the beast's castle was the right decision; although the odds were that she was giving up her life, at least Chip would live. Her siblings would have their father. And, when viewed from a positive angle, this situation gave Beauty the opportunity she'd longed for for years. She was finally in the woods on her own! Adventure was finally hers! Beauty twirled happily as she strolled down the path. This was easy! Luckily, she'd not run into any wolves, or bears, or any of the other threatening creatures the woods had to offer. She hadn't even run into any other travelers! She was truly alone with the woods. _If I live through this, wait until Chandler hears about it! _Removing her canteen from the satchel and taking a sip, Beauty surveyed the path. She had begun to work out her course when she started walking: she would follow the path until she found the area where her father had veered onto it, and then she would follow the tracks made by the cart's wheels to the castle. So far, however, it appeared that she had a long way to go before she reached the fork in her road.

"**Into the woods to find the beast who on my father wants to feast. Into the woods to-** oof!"

Something caught Beauty's foot as she walked. To her vast surprise, she tripped and fell, landing on top of something very soft. A voice grumbled from under her body.

"Hey, watch where you're… oh. It's you again. Beauty, isn't it? Why is it both times I have run into you, you've ended up on top of me?"

That voice! Beauty recognized it in an instant. Puss in Boots! Quickly, she shifted herself off of the cat.

"Hello, Puss in Boots. I'm very sorry for falling on top of you again. I hope I didn't hurt you."

The cat jumped up and brushed herself with her paws, sheathing her dagger. "No, you didn't hurt me. However, you did cause me to lose my midnight snack." Catalin gestured towards a nearby tree into which her intended victim- one very unfortunate squirrel- was climbing. "Anyway, what brings you into the wood? I find it hard to believe that your family is out gathering firewood at this time of night."

Beauty's eyes sparkled with excitement. Surely her situation would impress the cat. "Actually… I ran away from home!" she blurted out.

Catalin laughed sarcastically. "Ha ha ha. Sure you did. Come now, Beauty, do tell me what you are really doing here. No, wait- I think I can guess. Your family actually was gathering firewood earlier today and you wanted to get away from them again. But this time you wanted to STAY away. So you ran even farther than before and in order to be able to find your way back later, you left a trail of breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, you've discovered that your bread crumb trail has been eaten by birds. You should have used shiny stones. Or catnip." She sighed. "Come. I'll help you find your way home before a wolf finds you first." She began to walk, her sharp eyes scanning the forest, motioning for Beauty to follow. The peasant girl shook her head.

"No, Puss in Boots, I actually ran away from home!" She sat down on the path, motioning for the cat to do the same. Snickering, Catalin complied, ready to hear whatever silly reason the girl had to run off, where she expected to go, and through what cockamamie scheme she expected to get there. The cat expected to be in for a laugh, considering the peasant's naïveté. However, as Beauty began to describe how her father had come home from his journey saying that he had met a beast, Catalin began to believe her, much to her surprise. After all, one never could tell what one might meet in the woods. It was slightly plausible that a person could come upon a castle inhabited by a beast. As Beauty went on to describe the rooms in the castle and the rose garden and the beast's appearance, Catalin found herself giving complete credence to her tale. It sounded like Little Peasant Girl was finally getting her big adventure. Wasn't she the lucky one? Catalin had searched throughout the kingdom for the past two weeks and had found no opportunities to prove herself. The sailors at the tavern had not wanted her aboard ship even as ship's mouser. Neither of the Princes had wanted to hire her as a knight; in fact, they'd laughed at her the moment she offered her services. In short, she'd had no luck. But now, maybe, this could be her opportunity. Catalin doubted if the girl had gained any experience in the past two weeks. She would need protection. An escort. A bodyguard. Catalin could provide all three.

"Interesting story," she began, unsure how to ask if Beauty needed any help on her journey. "But it's an awfully large challenge for one girl to take on her own. Let me put it to you simply: surely you do not want to perish. Surely you want to return home, am I right?" Beauty nodded. Catalin went on. "Are you, by any chance, armed?" In response, Beauty gestured to the knife at her waist. "A hunting knife. Excellent weapon. You may have more knowledge about this sort of thing than I've given you credit for. Have you ever used a knife- for something besides eating or slicing bread, I mean?" Blushing, the human shook her head. "Ah. Well, Beauty, it seems as if you're going to need a bit of assistance. Therefore, I would like to volunteer to escort you to the castle and to aid you on your quest." Smiling, Beauty agreed. Drowning in her happiness to make herself useful, Catalin leapt in front of her human charge, dagger out in case of ambush. After an hour, her sharp cat's eyes found the area where Chip had veered. The duo followed his tracks, and by sunrise, they had reached an area filled with brush, tall grass, and brambles. The bushes looked as if they had been parted by a speeding carriage. This was the brush Chip had mentioned! The journey was almost complete.

Meanwhile, at the Baker's cottage, the family had just woken up. They were now beginning to prepare for the day's work: Chip was piling twigs and branches of every shape and size into the fireplace, ready to light the oven and begin baking; Cinderella and Mary were on their knees in the storage closet, scooping the many different kinds of flour out of their sacks and into buckets for easy access, and Charlie and Alfred were making their way back around the cottage from the well, heavy, dripping buckets of water yoked to their shoulders. They worked diligently, but slight irritation penetrated their minds. Beauty was still asleep, or so they thought, and it would be time to open the shop in an hour. They needed her help to get the dough ready for baking. At the rate they were going, they wouldn't have a single roll baked when the customers began to arrive!

"Chip," Cinderella called from inside the closet, "Has Beauty come in yet?"

"No, she hasn't," her husband replied, exasperation creeping into his voice. This wasn't like Beauty at all. Usually she was awake with the sun, ready to begin baking and helping to run the shop. She had never been one to oversleep before. "I'll go wake her, Dear. I won't be a minute." With that, Chip trudged through the shop and his bedroom to Beauty's room. Firmly, he knocked on the door,

"Beauty? Beauty, are you awake?" There was no answer. The Baker knocked again. "Come along, Beauty. It's almost time to open the shop." Not a sound. "Beauty, I know you're angry. I know you're upset. I know that you think I'm a fool for not trying to save my own life. But that does not mean that you should have to sacrifice yours, Beauty. I promise, I'll find a solution to this that will protect the both of us. Now will you please come out?" Dead silence. Sighing, Chip opened the door and walked inside. His daughter was still in bed, curled up under the covers, asleep. Chip bent to shake her just as a cry came from the kitchen.

"Chip, it's gone! Your hunting jacket's gone! So is your satchel… and your knife! Someone's stolen them… and, oh, Chip…" Cinderella's voice began to crack. "Joanna's shawl… it's not on its peg!"

_No_, Chip thought. The only member of the family who ever wore Joanna's purple shawl was… frantic, he yanked off the blanket to reveal a bunched-up pile of sheets. Beauty was gone! "Cinderella!" The Baker dashed back into the shop, where Cinderella stood in front of the counter holding a slip of paper, her children frantically surrounding her.

"Beauty's run away." Cinderella sobbed. "She… she left a note." Choking, wetting the paper with her tears, Cinderella began to read. "Dear Father and Stepmother, by the time you read this… my life will likely be at its end. I will have offered myself to the beast, and will have been devoured…I am sorry, Father. It was the only way to ensure that you will live… It is my fault, anyway. If I hadn't asked for those silly roses in the first place, we wouldn't be in this predicament… Please, do not weep for me. You have other children, after all, and perhaps you could even have another daughter to take my place. With luck, you will forget all about me…Lastly, please forgive the choice I have made. I have already lost my mother. Please don't make me lose my father too… Goodbye… Beauty!"

Chip stood stock-still, shocked and outraged out of his mind. "'Forget all about me,' she says! Oh yes, I'm just going to forget the child that I fought giants for, that I went through all sorts of curses and reverses for, that I went into the woods hunting for a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn and a slipper as pure as gold to come by! We can't let her do this, Cinderella! "

"We must go after her!" His wife announced, opening the door. "Beauty's going to get herself killed! Charlie, I want you to stay here and watch your siblings."

"But I wish to help!" Her son argued.

"This is no time to disobey your mother, Charles Junior!" Chip snapped, running outside after his wife. "You are to stay and ensure that Alfred and Mary don't cause a baking accident while we're gone." Hyperventilating in their worry, Chip and Cinderella dashed into the woods, hoping against hope that they were not too late.

Swish! Crunch! Catalin swung her dagger through the tall, dry, prickly brush as she and Beauty trudged into the distance. They had been walking for hours and could find no easy path through the apparent metropolis of deserted houses buried in the grasses and shrubs that would lead them to the beast's castle. They had lost track of the indents from the wheels of the Baker's cart virtually as soon as they began hacking through the brush and were now hopelessly lost. Their one intent now was to hack a quick path through the bushes to get to the monster's abode. Both were tired and thirsty- the canteen had been emptied and the bread demolished long ago- and a new cause of anxiety had appeared to Beauty. It was now ten o'clock in the morning, as Catalin had deduced through a glance at the sun. Beauty's family usually awoke with the sun in order to open the bakery. Surely they would have noticed that she was gone by now! Beauty sighed as she realized that Chip would have pursued her the moment he saw that she was gone, as he had that day in the woods. And she was not even at the castle yet, as she had planned to be. Supposing she was caught now, so close and yet so far. As Catalin chopped the branches, she worried, little knowing that Chip and Cinderella were now racing through the woods on her trail, calling her name, and had just found Chip's tracks. Her anxiety continued as the hours crawled by and they progressed from deserted cottages to deserted townhouses and finally deserted manors on their way, little knowing that the Baker and his wife had found their trail and were now following it, searching every house on the way for their missing daughter and stepdaughter. Finally, Beauty and Catalin found themselves at the castle's gate. Trying to maintain a spirit of bravery, they climbed over the side and jumped into the courtyard. Straightening up, Beauty stared at the castle.

"Well, here we are." Catalin remarked. "This is your castle." Beauty nodded.

"Yes." She took a deep breath, drawing her shawl closer about her head. "Here goes." Tentatively, she took her first slow steps across the courtyard to the castle, staring at its ominous doors with Catalin at her side.

"This is the castle!" Chip called to his wife as she raced behind him, both of their eyes scanning the area for their daughter and stepdaughter. Cinderella reached him and they stood at the gate, straining their eyes for a glimpse of a brown dress or of red hair, pits forming in their stomachs at the possibility that Beauty might already be in the stomach of the beast. Finally, they saw her, walking purposefully towards the looming wooden doors of the castle. She walked slowly, as if hypnotized, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been caught. Terrified, Chip and Cinderella leapt at the gate and began struggling to climb over it, the pits in their stomachs growing as Beauty moved closer to the door. Finally, they made it over the side and jumped, landing in the courtyard. The thud of their bodies hitting the hard ground was heard by neither Catalin who, dagger drawn, was standing in front of Beauty, ready to defend her if necessary; nor Beauty, who to her parents' shock had mechanically grasped the door handle.

"BEAUTY!!!! NO!!!" The Baker and his wife screamed, unheard by their daughter and stepdaughter, who opened the door and without a word, disappeared inside. Frantic, they rushed across the courtyard to the door. Cinderella grabbed the handle and pulled with all her might. Unfortunately, the door had now been mysteriously locked.

"Beauty!" She screamed as she hammered on the door and Chip climbed up to a nearby window, a window so caked with grime that he could not see inside. "Beauty, come back! You don't know what you're doing! Open the door!"

"Beauty, listen to me!" Chip begged. "You are young! I am growing old, I've lived my life! Why throw yours away? You have so much to live for, Beauty!" Their screaming was cut short by a loud, ear-shattering roar coming from inside the castle. Startled, Chip leapt from the window. Immediately following this was a high-pitched, terrified shriek. The beast was upon her! An unbearable clatter arose from the castle as a bloody slab hit the very window Chip had been gazing into. Then…silence, followed by the sound of bones crunching. Beauty's bones. Beauty was dead. Gasping, Cinderella helped her shaking husband to his feet. Breathless, Chip managed to stammer out one sentence in his disbelief.

"We were too late." Heartbroken, the Baker and his second wife began their journey home. They would have tell their three remaining children that they had lost their sister. They would also have to arrange a funeral for their poor, departed Beauty.

"Beauty!" Catalin screamed inside the castle's marble halls, "Why did you shriek like that? God that shock alone probably took a life off of my allotment!"

Beauty, who was in fact very much alive, gasped her hand on her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm only jumpy, is all. Wouldn't you be, if you knew that your chances of surviving the day were very low, that any second the beast that made that horrible roar may suddenly appear to swallow you for lunch?" Beauty shuddered. "This is it, Puss in Boots. This is the moment of truth. There's no turning back now. It's time to make the trade: my life for my father's." She gazed down the hall and noticed an open door, a soft light coming from inside. She recognized it immediately as the parlor her father had described. "I suppose I'm expected in there," Beauty murmured. Their feet and paws softly treading the marble floors, they entered the room. Beauty listened to the sounds around her as she sat in a red velvet armchair, Catalin curled up on the rug next to her. She heard a gruff male voice yell, "For a paragon of grace, as you call yourself, you are so clumsy! First you trip and upset the dishes, and then when you try to butcher the Beast's kill, you end up sending a piece into the window!" Another male voice with an accent Beauty had never heard before responded with "Vell, I'm soorry, but een ze pahst I nefver uzed ahn axe! Besides, vhat's ze use, I zay. Ze Beast cahn zeemply, ow you say, reep eet apahrt vith hees monstrows jahws. He dooes not-a need bootchers vhen he cahn do ze johb pearfectly by heemself!" _So that's how I'm going to die_, Beauty thought nervously, _I'm going to be ripped to shreds by the Beast's jaws. _She shivered in her chair, anticipating the entrance of her executioner.

One could just barely see the sun setting through the castle's grimy window when a series of loud footfalls, resonating like thunder claps, began their descent down the hall towards the room where Beauty waited. Click! Click! Sharp objects clattered against the floor, louder and louder as the mysterious being drew nearer and nearer. Beauty tensed. The hour of judgment had finally come for her. _I'll be seeing you soon, Mother!_ Catalin leapt up, arching her back in order to look threatening, unsheathing her razor-sharp claws and brandishing her dagger.

"Get behind me, Beauty. And brace yourself! It's rare that one is up against a force this great."

Beauty obeyed, yanking the knife from its strap at her waist as a dark figure burst into the room. Quick as lightning, Catalin pounced on it, sinking her claws into its massive form.

"Meeeeeow!!!!" The cat screeched, scratching and biting the mysterious entity that threatened them, slashing at it with her dagger. "Now I've got you! Pray for mercy from PUSS IN BOOTS!!!!" Swish! The dagger rose into the air purposefully, swooped downward and, with a sickening _thud_, became entangled in something solid. The creature roared and bucked, tossing Catalin off of its back as if she were a doll. The cat flew across the room, picking up speed at an alarming rate until finally, she crashed into the wall. Almost as soon as she landed on the floor she was back on her feet and rushing towards Beauty. However, the figure was faster; growling, it forced Beauty up against the wall, using its body as a barricade to prevent Catalin from protecting its intended prey. Perspiring with fear, the girl shakingly pointed the hunting knife at the advancing body.

"Get back!" She screeched. "Back! Or I'll slice you into a thousand bits!"

This produced a burst of cold, sinister laughter from the figure, who reached out a shaggy, matted grey paw and swatted the weapon out of her hand and beyond her reach, slicing through her wrist with its dirty, black claws as sharp as lances. As the figure loomed over Beauty, she began to discern its features in the dim light and to realize with horror that the Beast was even more terrifying than the Baker had described him to be. The horns on his head were pointed straight at her, scratched slightly from Catalin's blade. He grinned evilly out of his long snout, his many knifelike teeth dripping saliva onto the floor. Terrified, the girl thought wildly of trying to make a run for it, until the image of her father in her position, cowering at the mercy of the Beast shot into her head. Adrenaline rushed through Beauty's veins as she found herself standing straighter, more confidently.

"You wish to devour me?" She heard herself shout. "Well go on then! Here I stand!" The Beast continued to loom over her, not moving a muscle. "I am not afraid of you!" Beauty was stunned at the outrageous taunts and proclamations that were forcing their way out of her lips. Catalin sensed danger. She tried to leap over the Beast's tail, but was sent flying back into the wall. "Eat me, if you dare!" Beauty screeched. The Beast emitted another cold, sinister laugh that sent shivers down her spine.

"I do not plan to eat you…yet." He snarled. Beauty inhaled sharply. She had a chance? Or did she? What was happening? The Beast loomed closer over her head, breathing his foul breath into her face. "Who are you, wench? State your business here."

"I am here for my father." Beauty struggled to maintain her defiant tone as Catalin attempted once more to intervene and was circumvented again. "In exchange for a bouquet of roses, you ordered him to send me here or die. Those roses were intended to be my gift. I am here now to pay for them. I come of my own will, so do what you may. I have no fear."

"You do have a name, I presume?" The Beast growled.

"Beauty."

The Beast nodded, still baring his teeth at the girl. "Very well, Beauty. In that case, your fate is not to be my meal." Beauty reeled back, stunned. She was not going to be eaten! She was going to live! Her head spun with dizzy relief. But what, then, was she wanted for? Before she could ask, the Beast went on. "You are, instead, to be my prisoner. For the rest of your days you will live here, in this castle. In my generosity I will allow you to wander where you will about the grounds, and my servants shall tend to you. However, you are never to leave. If you so much as attempt to escape, I will come after you; and if that happens, not only will your father be killed, but so will your entire family, and you yourself will be lucky simply to survive the confrontation. As for your cat-"

"I will not leave her with the likes of you!" Catalin howled from behind him. Although she had not known the peasant girl for long, she felt a responsibility for her due to having volunteered to be her escort. What kind of heroine was she if she left her charge at the hands of a potentially lethal captor without any form of possible defense?

The Beast snarled. "Well, then, Cat. You have chosen your fate. You shall remain my prisoner as well. And if you attempt escape, or if the wench does, you shall become my repast. There you have it, Beauty. Your life for your father's. By your presence, I assume we are agreed." He backed away, letting Beauty edge out of the corner. Catalin rushed up to her and blocked her protectively, her back arched in anger.

"You may win this round, Beast." She snapped, hissing as she spoke. "But if you ever- EVER- threaten the human while I am around, it is YOU who the confrontation will not fare well with!"

The Beast snickered, amused by the threats of this small cat. He barked into the distance. "Melinda! Show the girl to her room!"

A shuffling noise was heard coming around the corner of the door. Beauty and Catalin craned their necks, confused, as a small feather duster with a golden handle and grey feathers came around the door. The feather duster seemed to gaze up at the Beast as, to the girl and cat's shock, it spoke.

"Yes, Your Highness." Melinda turned to the bewildered prisoners. "Come this way, please." Catalin pushed Beauty ahead after the duster, gave one last threatening hiss to the Beast, and followed, sheathing her dagger. Shuffling eerily down the hall, Melinda led them into a tower, in which a long staircase awaited them. The three entered the quickly darkening tower and began their long ascent.

After what seemed to Beauty to be an eternity of climbing stairs, the feather duster finally halted in front of a large, forbidding door made of purest ebony and featuring sparkling silver hinges and doorknob, as well as an ornament shaped like the head of a wolf. The silver wolf's threatening jaws stretched wide open, revealing a score of menacing teeth that looked as if they could bite right through Beauty's hand if she put it too close. The light of the flames in their sconces glistened eerily on the door's silver, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively edged closer to Catalin, who bristled the fur on her back in annoyance. Beauty's mind was filled with terror that she was expected to open that door. However, the door swung creakingly open, as if of its own accord. Melinda turned to face the shivering girl and her agitated feline companion.

"Follow me, please. Your room is not much farther."

The feather duster began her eerie shuffling motion again, moving rapidly down a dark hallway, dimly lit by torches in golden sconces. Beauty stood stock-still, frozen by the turbulence of the many emotions that had been running through her head since she made up her mind to leave home. Catalin glanced up at her and scoffed, as if to say "Are you going or aren't you?" Bewildered, Beauty pressed on, Catalin in tow, down a gallery lined completely by elaborate tapestries that looked as if they had cost a fortune. The manifold colors of the tapestries were muted in the dim light, but she could clearly see the scornful figures they depicted and felt as if she were the cause of their discomfort. Embroidered maidens at cross-stitched spinning wheels glared at her, thread huntsmen brandished their weapons as their dogs growled; lords and ladies waltzing in their satin-stitched ballrooms glowered at the Baker's daughter. _Why have you come here, _they seemed to ask. _How dare you disturb our solitude, impertinent peasant?_ Humbled, Beauty lowered her eyes to the floor which, as the trio moved into a better lit area, could be seen to be made of shining, glittering gold. _What is this place_, Beauty wondered as she followed Melinda down the aisle. The glare from the gold hurt her eyes, and she thought nostalgically of the bare boards which floored the Baker's cottage. Finally, Melinda stopped in front of a snow-white door with gold designs painted into it.

"This, Miss Beauty, shall be your room." The girl hesitated to open it, fearing that the door handle might burn her if she dared to touch it. Melinda tapped her ankle with a feather. "Well, go on, open the door!" Her fingers slipping, Beauty quickly grasped the handle and pulled the door open, stepping inside. Immediately her feet left a floor of gold for a floor of dazzling silver. Beauty looked up to find herself in the largest bedroom she had ever seen; at least half of her cottage could have fit into the immense space. She also noted with amazement that everything inside the room contained something of some shade of purple. The gigantic ivory bed in which, as Beauty estimated, her entire family could have slept; was crowned by a canopy of majestic violet satin. The downy, luxurious-looking comforter was made of cashmere of the same shade, and the silk and satin bedsheets were the color of lilacs. A chandelier hanging over the center of the room was made entirely of translucent purple diamonds. An elegant lavender velvet divan rested by the silver silk-hung wall on the far right of the room. An exotic Turkish carpet, boasting at least twenty purple hues, lay at the center of the room. A beautiful blue armoire stood near the upper left corner, purple silk peeping through its doors, matching their dazzling gemstone knobs. A vanity rested beside it, on which rested a purple jewelry box and a silver, purple gem-encrusted hairbrush. Even the fireplace at the back wall, in which a roaring fire blazed, had purple flecks in its masonry. Beauty, bewildered, hung her shawl and hunting jacket on a platinum rack next to the door. As she wandered, breathing heavily, into the room, a warm voice loudly greeted her.

"Well, and you must be the daughter!" Beauty jumped in surprise as Catalin brandished her dagger. The voice laughed. "Welcome, my Dear."

Beauty turned her eyes in the direction of the voice, wondering who had addressed her. She reproached herself for thinking this, but the voice appeared to have come from the armoire.

"Puss in Boots… did the armoire…?"

The cat nodded in amazement, rubbing her eyes with her paws as a metallic voice arose from the vanity.

"Well, I must say I did not expect to see YOU here so soon! It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss-"

"Miss Beauty," Melinda interrupted, "I would like to introduce your handmaidens: Vivienne," she gestured towards the armoire with a feather, "and Jaqueline." As she said this, Melinda pointed another feather at the vanity as the hairbrush raised itself.

"P-pleased to m-meet y-you." Beauty stammered, backing towards the bed. What was happening? Household objects were inanimate, she knew that. They were not meant to speak, or to move, but to remain silent and stationary, existing only for human use. Yet now three supposedly inanimate amenities had addressed her! Beauty had longed for adventure, but this was a bit more than she'd bargained for. A high- pitched, irritating creaking arose from the floor as the armoire dragged itself in her direction, closely followed by the repeated scratches of the brush's bristles on the floor. The armoire opened itself as the brush jumped inside it.

"Well, Miss Beauty," Vivienne stated, "what a perfect name for you, by the way. Shall we begin?"

"Begin what?"

"Why, assisting you, of course! I will be providing all of your gowns from now on, and Jacqueline will be in charge of ensuring that not a single hair of yours is out of place. I have been the castle seamstress for many years, as Jacqueline has been its chief image consultant. You, however, are the first lady we have had residing here in quite some time. Please, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to inform us. Why don't we start by getting rid of that rag you're wearing," the armoire congenially offered, showing off a vast array of bejeweled, embroidered gowns of every hue imaginable. _Who lived here before I_, Beauty wondered, _that wore such things, that could live in such splendor?_ Beauty felt frightened and out of place. She knew that the objects were simply trying to be kind to her, but she was not used to being addressed by furnishings. Also, the image of the Beast was still imprinted in her mind, his pointed horns, menacing claws and frightening teeth engraved permanently on her subconscious. It had been a long, emotionally trying day, and she wanted nothing more than for it to be finished.

"That's very kind of you. I appreciate it, honestly, but I would really like to sleep now, if it does not offend you."

No sooner had Beauty said this than a lavender velvet nightgown was thrust through the armoire towards her. Accepting the garment and putting it on, Beauty nervously glanced at Catalin, who had taken off her boots and laid her dagger beside them and had curled up the divan.

"I promise not to leave." The black cat assured her. "It would appear that you are safe in this room; at least I do not detect any hint of threat in anything here now. However, if any outsiders do come in, you may rest assured that I will hear them and that they will be dealt with."

Reassured, Beauty knelt beside the bed and gently began to nudge at the mattress, wondering if perhaps it was alive as well.

"Hello? Hello? Are you awake? Can you hear me? Can you- listen, I'm going to be sleeping here for quite some time, if that's all right. Hello?" She turned to the feather duster, who was now shuffling out the door. "Melinda? Can he or she speak?"

"The bed is not amongst us servants, Beauty. It cannot speak." With that, the duster vanished as the candles of the chandelier blew themselves out. Exhausted, Beauty climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She sank into the mattress as if it were water. Closing her eyes, she relaxed her body and tried to force herself to think of something, _anything_, other than the Beast, his strange, enchanted castle; and the family she'd left behind.

As Beauty lay in the bed, she began to feel weightless, as if she were being carried away on a light breeze. She tossed and turned as she disappeared into a misty haze. What was going on? Was she dreaming? She saw nothing, she felt nothing, only flying, only floating towards the center of the mist. As she moved deeper and deeper into the fog, a shape began to appear to her in the distance. Beauty squinted. She wondered what it was. As the shape came closer, she could see that it was a man. This man was the most handsome that Beauty had ever seen. He was attractive enough to make Raoul look uglier than the Beast. The man's flawless skin was of a beautiful pale tone, like alabaster or pearl. His black hair, the color of midnight, shone as bright as the sun. His silvery grey eyes sparkled lovingly at Beauty, and when she gazed into them she felt as if she could see deep caverns, sparkling with undiscovered diamonds. His body was strong and muscular like Raoul's, but whereas Raoul's physique seemed reminiscent of a machine, this man's reminded Beauty of a living creature, an indomitable spirit conveyed through strength and courage. The man was a prince, a fact made obvious by the golden suit he wore, covered in silver medallions. He approached Beauty and addressed her.

"Marry me."

Beauty reeled back, startled. Had this man, whom she was sure she'd never seen before in her life, just asked her what she thought he'd asked her? No, she could not have heard properly.

"What?"

"Marry me, Beauty. Please."

Confusion raced through Beauty's mind. This man, this PRINCE, had just proposed marriage to her. The Baker's daughter. She did not even know the man's name! How could she ever marry him?

"No! I cannot marry you! I do not know who you are!"

"But I need you, Beauty. Please, marry me! Marry me!"

"But I do not know your name!"

"Marry me!" With that, the prince began to fade. Beauty, frightened, tried to chase him. However, the fog had other plans. Within seconds it had surrounded Beauty, choking her with its misty haze. She could only watch, only wonder as the prince disappeared.

As the mysterious prince faded into the distance, a warm, comforting smell penetrated Beauty's nostrils. She sniffed, trying to identify the appetizing odor as she slowly began to awaken. The smell was soft, light yet hearty, salty yet sweet, and _familiar._ As Beauty regained consciousness, she realized that this was no ordinary smell. This was the smell of bread baking. That could only mean one thing: It was all a dream. Chip's hysteria, the night escape, the journey through the woods, the castle, the roses, the Beast, the talking household objects, the prince and his marriage proposal… all of these were in her head, mere figments of her imagination. Chip probably hadn't even returned from the festival yet! Beauty yawned, her eyes still sealed shut. _I wonder what time it is_, she mused as she stretched in bed, trying to will herself to get up. _I hope I haven't slept too late. I'll probably get it from Stepmother in a few minutes. _ Beauty paused as she thought this. Something was not right. She jerked her leg, hitting the mattress. It sunk into the bedding as if it were being enveloped into a cloud. Beauty inhaled sharply. That wasn't supposed to happen. Was she still dreaming? Quickly, she ran her hands over the blankets. Soft and smooth as silk. These were definitely not her homespun blankets. Desperate, Beauty rolled over in bed and found that she was alone. This was not home. Home was not one's own bed with silk and satin blankets and a goosefeather mattress. No, home was a comfortable-enough straw mattress with homespun blankets and a little sister who kicked in her sleep. Beauty slowly lowered her eyes open and gazed at her surroundings, more resigned by the second. There was the velvet nightgown. The canopy loomed above her head like a purple storm. The purple Turkish carpet still rested on the silver floor. Beauty looked up to see Catalin curled up on the divan in the corner, her prized boots and dagger on the floor beside her bed.

Beauty sighed, defeated. It was not a dream. She was really the prisoner of a Beast. There was no escaping that fact. While she would not be eaten, she would be doomed to remain inside this castle for the rest of her days and would never see her family again.

_Author's note: Wow, this one was long. This is probably the longest chapter this story is going to have. I tried to break it up, but just couldn't find a way, so yeah. Also, Beauty is going through intense mood swings (who wouldn't in her situation), and as we all know, people do stupid things under stress, i.e. Filling one's satchel with beans. On another note, the voice with the mysterious accent is saying: "Well, I'm sorry, but in the past I never used an axe! Besides, what's the use, I say. The Beast can simply, how you say, rip it apart with his monstrous jaws. He does not need butchers when he can do the job perfectly by himself!" I meant for the accent to not resemble any one in particular so as not to offend, but if it is too close to one and it is offensive, let me know and I will re-work it. So, now the Beast has his girl. However, that is only one of the Witch's requirements. Can Beauty love a beast? Can the Beast make it possible for Beauty to love him?_

_ What new adventures and acquaintances await Beauty and Catalin in their new life as the Beast's prisoners? What will happen to the Baker, Cinderella and family now that they think Beauty is dead? How has Chandler's rescuer affected him? And what will become of Brina? Find out in the next chapter._

_ Reviews= good, flames= magic baked beans._


	5. Chapter 5

Slowly raising her body to a seated position and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Beauty sniffed at the air. She could have sworn that she had smelled bread, steaming hot and fresh from the oven. Desperately, she strained her nostrils, hoping for that familiarity, about to give up until… yes, there it was! Somebody- _or someTHING_, Beauty thought, _judging by the state of the "servants"_- was definitely baking bread in this castle. And Beauty was determined to find out who- or WHAT- it was. Silently and slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping Catalin, she lowered her body out of bed. When her feet reached the ground instead of freezing on contact with the cold silver floor, they were instantly greeted by a pair of lavender slippers. The slippers were as soft as wool, and the fur that lined them buried Beauty's feet in divine warmth. Bewildered, Beauty had wondered how her "handmaidens," the household objects, had known she would be up so early. Shrugging, she looked at her bed to find a royal purple silk dressing gown folded neatly on the bedspread. White birds and flowers floated over the purple sea of the robe as Beauty tied it on. _Whatever woman lived here before I certainly liked the color purple! _Padding gently over the floor, Beauty opened the door and shut it. Sniffing at the air, she began to follow the scent down the hall and back into the gallery of tapestries.

The spinning maidens, dancing aristocrats and hunting squires still eyed Beauty askance from their cross-stitched world, as if to say, _ah, still here, are you Girl? What a disappointment. We are not accustomed to young women of your background in our sanctuary. _Defiant, Beauty glared at a foreboding monk which looked like he wanted to hit her over the head with his gold-thread Bible. _Well, you'd best become accustomed to it!_ She mentally countered, _for it would appear that I'm to stay here for quite some time!_ Sniffing, she sauntered towards the door to the stairwell, noticing something she had not seen the night before. A poker, made of the finest spurned brass, was hopping down the hall ahead of her, its sharp point making irritating plinking noises against the golden tiles of the floor. As Beauty reached the door, it jumped into the silver handle and pulled it open before the astonished girl's eyes.

"There you are, Miss!" It cheerily told her. "And a very pleasant morning to you!"

"Th-thank you." Beauty stammered, unsure how to respond. This was the fourth supposedly inanimate object to speak to her in the past two days. Confusion filled her mind like a fog. _How, exactly,_ she wondered, _are these objects able to talk and to move? What has happened that would allow them to do this_? At a loss for a better response, she curtsied deeply to the poker, who appeared to blush in response, and hurried into the stairwell. On sight of her, the torches in their sconces lit themselves, dousing the tower in light. The light sparkled off the brass in the castle's mortar as Beauty raced down the stairs. The warm, delicious scent of the bread became stronger and stronger as Beauty descended flight after flight of stairs. Finally, when it appeared that she had reached the bottom of the castle, it had reached its maximum strength. Someone was baking bread on the bottom floor. Praying that she hadn't stumbled upon the castle dungeon, Beauty warily edged out of the tower.

As Beauty entered the hall, she was hit with a sudden burst of warmth. The kitchen, she supposed, was nearby. Still following her nose, Beauty edged her way down the hall, which appeared to her to show a great contrast to those she had hitherto seen. Both the walls and the floor were comprised of the granite masonry that composed the outside of the castle, instead of the precious-metal tiles and silk-hung walls that made up the other floors. The windows on this floor were by far the dingiest; Beauty noted with shock that the grime encrusting them, a revolting grey-green color, smelled as if it were fermenting. The sorry windows appeared, in fact, to have not seen a sponge in years! Must filled the air, creating a choking smog which penetrated every room. The noise, as well, provided contrast; whereas both floors Beauty had been on produced a deadly silence, the noise in this corridor was deafening. A clatter arose down the aisle, and Beauty jumped in surprise as a group of brass fire-irons leapt past her. A few steps down the hall, and a childish shriek arose as a dozen silver spoons raced past her in fear. _I mean no harm_, Beauty mused, wondering if it were really she that they were afraid of or if she were on the same floor as the Beast. Shivering, she prayed that she was not. As she followed the scent, a queue of feather dusters, much like Melinda, bustled past her, gossiping. Another great clanking arose, and the girl backed against a wall as a suit of armor stumbled tipsily down the hall, loudly singing a drinking song in a fearsome baritone. Finally, Beauty's fingers found a door handle. The smell of bread wafted around her. _This must be the kitchen!_ Relieved, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.

When Beauty entered the kitchen she found it to be alive with activity. A mahogany clock with a golden face and pendulum stepped gracefully around the room, laying freshly-baked loaves on the countertop as they were spewed out by a silver, slightly blackened cookstove. A group of pots hummed happily as they simmered on top of the stove, as a pan in its oven shouted, "This batch is done, George!" Goblets, knives, forks and spoons bustled in and out of the pantry, emerging with ingredients with which to create more culinary masterpieces. On top of the dusty, notched kitchen table sat Melinda, turning from side to side and giving orders, gesturing with her feathers to what needed to be done.

"Very good, everyone! Remember, we must do our best to concoct the most delicious food possible. We are no longer simply butchering His Highness's prey. We now have a girl living here who is used to dining like a civilized human being! We must accommodate her as she will be staying in this castle for the rest of her days. Let us make her life a bit more enjoyable!"

"Heaven knows she's going to need it, the poor thing!" A pot piped up.

"Thank you for your input, Helen. Now please focus yourself on the task of simmering your stew, we do not want it to burn. Jerrold!" She pointed a feather at a sharp silver knife who was lounging idly atop the granite counter. "Hurry and gut that fish! Colleen," she admonished, pointing a feather at a grey towel with a rose embroidered on its lower right corner, "look what you've done, Girl. You've upset the mixing bowl! Now please clean that up. Make haste, everyone. The girl will awaken soon, and she will likely be-"

"Blimey!" A large copper pot gasped, seeming to look up at Beauty. "Well, you said she was unique, Melinda, but you never told us she was this lovely!" Beauty blushed scarlet, which looked very odd against her red hair. She had never been complimented by a pot before. Melinda, jumping in surprise, turned to face her.

"Oh, ah- good morning, Miss Beauty! What a surprise! Everyone," She addressed the whole congregation of supposedly inanimate objects who were now gathering around the table to get a better look at the strange, beautiful girl who now found herself in their midst. "I would like you to meet Miss Beauty. This is the girl I have mentioned. We are to tend to her every need from now on." The household objects began calling out friendly greetings to the girl, and some bowed low to the floor in her presence. Beauty, startled, backed towards the door. This was not supposed to happen. She, a Baker's daughter, was not supposed to have a host of people- er, objects- tending to her every whim, bowing before her, calling her "Miss Beauty" as if she were some kind of Lady of Court. Unsure how to respond, she stuttered.

"I'm s-sorry to interrupt you in y-your work. I s-shall leave you n-now."

"Nonsense, Miss Beauty." Melinda replied congenially gesturing at a stool with her feathers. "Why don't you sit down here? If you are hungry, you only need say the word to George," she gestured to the stove who gleamed brightly at Beauty as if smiling at her, "and he will gladly prepare anything you desire."

Beauty gazed in wonder at the cookstove, which glistened in the dim light, winking at her as it continued to radiate heat throughout the kitchen. Blushing, she looked down at her chest, noticing for the first time that her nightgown was rather low-cut. Gasping in embarrassment at being thus exposed in front of members of the opposite sex, even if they were merely household objects, she drew her dressing gown closer across her body. The cookstove, who did not appear to have noticed, simply went on burning. Beauty shook her head.

"No, thank you. But that's very kind of you." She quickly added, sensing the objects' disappointment. They _had_ meant well. She was simply not accustomed to this treatment. Until she had come to further understand this castle, she would accept little service from the household objects. However, she decided, as she was to remain in the castle for the rest of her days, she should try to become accustomed to them, perhaps even to form friendly relations with them. This could possibly be the adventure she wished for. To avoid offending her newly and unexpectedly-acquired entourage, she forced a smile.

"Pearhaps ze maidain ees thersty." The mysterious accent! Where was it coming from? Curious, Beauty slowly turned her head downward and found herself face to golden face with the mahogany clock. _Another talking object,_ she thought, blinking at the clock, who swung his pendulum faster in response. _I might have known. _The clock went on. "Eef you dezheer vine, you nayd ownly ohpayn one off ze suites off ahrmorr. Ze vine vill flow rayght oot off zhem. I varn you, hoefver, zey ahr alavays eentoxicahted."

Beauty nodded, still unsure what to make of the talking clock. "Not right now, thank you…"

"This dunderhead here is Ludwig," George cut in, grunting in annoyance as the clock bowed before Beauty.

"A plaisoor too mehk your ackvaintahnce, Mees Bayutya." He purred, taking her hand in one of the golden flaps at his side and pressing his face to it as if kissing it. "Cahstla dahncing mahsteer ahnd ayscort aht your searviss." The light glimmering off of his golden face as he looked up at Beauty, Ludwig boasted, "I ahm knoown forr being a pahragohn of grahce anhd poonctualite."

"Or so he says!" George interrupted again, now choking with sarcastic laughter. Black smoke billowed from his smokestack as he tried to catch his breath. Beauty looked on, bewildered. Finally, George caught his breath and continued. "I'll admit he's punctual, but a paragon of grace? Don't make me laugh!"

"Eet's zese vooden leggs!" Ludwig interjected, gesturing at the small mahogany legs that held him up. Looking closely, Beauty could agree that those clumsy supports were hardly adequate for movement. _However, I've never seen a clock that was able to move before now. _Of course, she mused, she'd never seen ANY object that was able to speak or move itself prior to the day before. Before she could say anything, however, George cut in for a third time.

"Of course, we've no need for a dancing master or escort now, so the only place he'll be useful is down here in the kitchen with me! And let me be the first to tell you that when their highnesses imported him from a hidden kingdom all those years ago, they should have looked for more practical traits than punctuality. He is the worst help I've ever had down here, Miss. Always breaking the plates, and he can't even use an axe properly! Just yesterday, when he was supposed to be butchering the Beast's prey, he wound up sending a slab of meat straight into the wall! Of all the incompetent-"

As fast as lightning, Melinda jumped onto the table to intervene. Spreading out her feathers at both of them, she shouted "that's enough!" As everything settled down, she turned again to face Beauty. "Now then, Miss Beauty," she asked, "what brings you down here, if you are not hungry. Is there anything any of us can do for you? Is there, perhaps, anything that you might need?"

"No, no," Beauty dismissed her, shaking her head. "It's nothing, really. I'm sorry to interrupt, it's just that I smelled your bread baking, and…" She paused. Her face fell as the objects began to draw closer. What was the matter with the girl? The Beast was nowhere around, to their knowledge. Did she find her accommodations unsatisfactory? Taking a deep breath, the girl went on. "You see, my father…" Beauty gulped. _Father!_ "My father is… was a baker… and every morning… my family would wake up early to bake the bread… and our house would smell exactly like this…" Tears began to flow from Beauty's eyes as she said this. _Father!_ She thought. _Stepmother, Charlie, Alfred, Mary! I'm never going to see them again. I'm trapped in this Beast's castle forever. I'll never speak to them again, or hold them. I'll never help Father in the shop, or look after my siblings, or seek advice from Stepmother. To think I complained of a boring life! To think I longed for adventure! Well, I've gotten what I wanted, but I couldn't have kept what I had!_ With reckless abandon, Beauty buried her head in her lap, sobbing as if her heart would break, mourning the loss of her family. They were not dead. They were only far away. Yet she was never to see them again. The smell of the bread had reminded her all too clearly that in a sense, she really had sacrificed her life for Chip's. Filled with sympathy for the peasant girl, the objects slowly edged around her. A small dishtowel edged along the floor to Beauty's foot and wrapped itself around her ankle, hugging it. Surrounded by the enchanted objects, Beauty gave rise to her grief and despair, uneasy and unsure in her new surroundings and in despair of ever again knowing familiarity.

Hidden in the shadows behind the door, the Beast heard her cry. He smelled the salty tang of her tears running smoothly down her pure, soft face; he felt the heartbreaking ache of misery that racked the Peasant Girl's body with every breath she took. Beauty's sobs broke straight through his hard shell into his soul. A slight twinge of an emotion the Beast had never felt before suddenly pricked through his rough surface. He wondered, for a moment, why the girl was crying. Had he made a terrible mistake in demanding her and thereby forcing her love for her father to bring her here? Should he return her?.... Grumbling to himself, the Beast shrugged the feeling off. She'd come of her own free will, hadn't she? The girl had said so herself! Therefore he could not be blamed! Any petty dissatisfaction the girl could have with his castle and her life there was entirely her fault. And she had better become accustomed to it, because the Beast was not about to release her. Growling in his annoyance at the girl, and at himself for almost taking pity on such an unworthy personage as the daughter of the peasant rat who'd stolen from him, the Beast stalked up the stairs and burst into the mahogany parlor. He stopped before the fireplace, glaring at the portrait of the menacing king and his simpering queen.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!" The Beast roared at his parents' images, who glared at him disdainfully from their frame. "IF YOU HADN'T THROWN THE WITCH OUT IN THE FIRST PLACE, IF YOU HAD ONLY SWALLOWED YOUR PRIDE JUST ONCE, THIS WOULD NOT BE HAPPENING!!!! IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT THERE'S A SNIVELLING PEASANT WENCH IN THE CASTLE !!!! AND IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU I'M IN THIS MONSTROUS FORM!!!!" Furious, the Beast continued to roar until his throat ached, and collapsed to the floor, silent. He placed his ear to the floor and listened. Beauty's sobs still emanated from the kitchen. Scoffing, the Beast stalked out of the palace and into the brush in the surrounding area to hunt for prey. When he was to return, Beauty's tears would have dried, but her sorrow at leaving her family would be far from gone.

A week had passed since Chip the Baker and his second wife Cinderella had arrived at home in the middle of the night in tears. A week since they watched their beloved daughter and stepdaughter hand herself over to certain death, powerless to stop her. A week since they had had to tell their three remaining children that Beauty was gone. The memory of those horrible moments would forever be branded on the parents' minds. Charlie had opened the door to receive them, the hopeful smile on his face radiating his expectancy to see Beauty with them, unharmed. "Beauty's really going to get it this time!" they'd heard Alfred snicker from within the kitchen. "Forget the Beast, I'll bet that Father's going to kill her himself for running off like that!" Mary ran towards the door, her arms outstretched to receive her sister, calling her name joyously over and over. Chip and Cinderella would never forget how the expressions on their faces changed when they saw their mother's tears streaking down her face, when they saw their father's face in a knot of grief. Never would they ever be able to erase the images of their children's' reactions from their mind: Mary had become hysterical, throwing herself into Cinderella's arms and wailing; Charlie became deadly silent, staring into space, unwilling to accept the news; as for Alfred, he had stared at his parents for a moment, then ducked into the storage closet to mourn privately. The family had shared their grief that night, five members temporarily brought even closer by the loss of one of their own.

The next morning, funeral arrangements were made. Beauty's final resting place was to be in the village churchyard, next to the gravestone that Chip had purchased a year after the giantess attack for his first wife, Joanna. The Baker thought it only just that Beauty be symbolically buried next to her mother. He had had her to himself for the past nineteen years. Now it would be Joanna's turn. Due to the fact that Beauty's remains were inside the body of the Beast and therefore impossible to retrieve, the family had decided to bury the bouquet of roses that Beauty had requested, leaving one to stand in the window of the shop as a reminder of the daughter they had lost. Chip himself had requested that: the bouquet of roses had been the last gift he had ever been able to give his favorite child, the last request of the only child of his beloved Joanna. The roses were supposed to have brought her so much happiness and instead cost Beauty her life. Chip knew that as long as he may live, he would never forgive himself for stealing the flowers from the Beast. Because of his mindless thievery, he would never see his daughter again. Chip had never felt so similar to his father. Both had stolen prized greens from the garden of a magical creature, and both had lost a daughter as a result of their carelessness. The Baker could identify but three differences between them: whereas Chip's sister, Rapunzel, who was raised as a daughter by the witch who abducted her, was taken almost the moment she was born; Beauty was mauled to death by the Beast as a young woman- Chip had had her for nineteen years! During this time he had been able to love and cherish her more than life, more than riches, more than the moon; he had found solace and comfort from the loss of his first wife in watching her beautiful image grow and change and could not believe that he had thought of and inwardly reproached himself constantly for trying to leave her in the woods. Finally, whereas his father, Frexspar, had run away from his guilt, Chip had no intention of forgetting what he lost. Until the rose wilted, he would gaze at it daily, forcing himself to contemplate his own stupidity in causing the death of the child he broke a curse to get.

Finally, a week after the tragedy, a solemn procession made its way through the streets of the little village towards the churchyard. The town priest, an old man dressed in a flowing black cassock and wearing a somber expression led the group, holding a small wooden box in his arms. This box, which was to serve as the roses' coffin, was carved of the finest pale oak that the Baker could afford. Beautiful carvings decorated it: the front and back sides of the box were graced with beautiful cows, a whittled cape enhanced the left and right sides. The lid was the most spectacular of all: a wavy pattern which resembled hair formed its border, and in each corner rested a slipper. Following the preacher was the population of the village, dressed entirely in black. When Chip and Cinderella had begun funerary preparations, they had immediately told Jack and Red about their loss, who had comforted them in their grief and promised to be at the funeral, along with their own three children. They had intended for Beauty's funeral to be a small one. However, customers at the bakery soon noticed Beauty's absence, and the bakers had had no choice but to say what had happened. As a result, the group was accompanied by an uninvited guest: walking alongside the family was Raoul, who wore an expensive, double-breasted suit of black silk and velvet and exaggeratedly bemoaned the loss of his "love" Beauty ever so often. He had also insisted upon delivering a eulogy at the funeral, cementing this by telling the priest that he had been given permission. Truthfully, the vast majority of the village had arrived simply because of Raoul, feeling sympathy for the town hero's loss of his intended as opposed to sorrow over Beauty's death. People could be heard muttering such statements as "It all comes of having a willful personality. That Beauty was never like the other girls, never thinking of her future, always wanting to go gallivanting off into the woods where women have never belonged," and "Her mother was exactly the same way, and look where it got her! Crushed by a giant! You'd think Beauty would have taken a lesson from Joanna, but then I suppose the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," and even "That Beauty was a disgrace! If Chip the Baker had been sterner with his daughter, if he had made any effort to put her in her place, things might have been different. But no! I always knew that Baker was never strong enough to handle his own children!"

At the forefront of the procession, directly behind the preacher walked the Baker and his family. All were in tears, except for one person. Throughout the morning, Chip the Baker had been stoic, his face frozen into a neutral, yet shocked expression as the congregation processed through the streets into the churchyard to the gravestone, before which a hole had been dug for the roses. The Baker's thoughts were not in the present time at all. Instead, he moved through the process slowly, mechanically, as if in another world. He did not see the ocean of black surrounding him, the box in the priest's arms as he delivered his sermon. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. So the Lord giveth as the Lord taketh back. These words flowed over Chip's consciousness like dust in the wind. All he could see were visions of what had been. He saw Joanna, five months pregnant, yet still dancing spiritedly with him at Cinderella and her Prince's wedding, heedless of the fact that her now bulging stomach was causing her to stumble repeatedly. Chip had had to support her for much of the celebration. That was the day Chip had finally met his sister, Rapunzel, face to face. He sighed, brought momentarily to the reality of Beauty's funeral. Not all of the family was there to pay their respects: Rapunzel had died mere hours before Joanna; her twins, Beauty's cousins Chandler and Elise had been sent letters announcing Beauty's death, but neither of them had been able to come to pay their respects. Elise, who at twenty years already had three young daughters, was once again pregnant and had previously been advised not to travel for the time being. Chandler had, in fact, not yet received the letter, still being out at sea. Rapunzel's Prince had not even been notified. No doubt he would be too busy seducing some young maiden to pay his respects to the niece of the woman he had rejected for Snow White. Closing his eyes, the Baker again saw Joanna, this time in the shop, the infant Beauty whining in her arms. An exasperated look was on her face as she begged her husband to try to look after the baby for a little while so that she could rest; "I cannot take care of her all of the time," she had moaned when the Baker insisted that she was more suited for the task. Joanna had been born the eldest of eight siblings, and as a result had grown up taking care of her seven brothers and sisters. She had known everything there was to know about babies, but however she'd tried to teach her husband he'd never quite picked up on it. Chip fought back tears as he stared into the distance. Joanna had had nineteen years' rest now. Now she would have her daughter back. This time, however, Chip would not be able to see them together, to be happy in the company of his two favorite redheaded women. He was jarred out of these thoughts as Raoul strode purposefully through the crowd to address them. Chip fought the urge to stick out his leg as the arrogant suitor passed him. He had not given the man permission to speak, it was only through lying to the preacher that he had been allowed to air whatever stupid sentiments he may have had. It was only the memory of Beauty's kind nature that kept him from making a move.

Pompously, arrogantly, Raoul turned to face the crowd. Dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, he began to speak, his booming hunter's voice resonating throughout the churchyard. "We all know that Beauty was sadly cut from this world prematurely when she stupidly offered herself to a beast. But what was Beauty's gravest error?" Here he paused for dramatic effect. Many villagers stared at him, hanging on his every word. Village girls sighed, feeling deep sorrow for the man that they had all wanted for themselves. Cinderella frowned at him, squeezing Alfred's hand gently lest he shout in indignation. Raoul went on. "I will tell you now. Beauty's gravest error was her refusal to marry me. If she had married me, she would have been given everything she could ever wish for. A rustic hunting lodge to live in. My kills to roast. My trophies to admire. Six or seven strapping boys and a beautiful little girl to raise and to one day make her proud. And of course, me. I would have been the finest husband Beauty could have wished for. If she had only come to me when the Beast threatened her father, instead of acting on impulse, you may rest assured that I would have tracked it down and killed it. Beauty would be alive and the head of the Beast mounted in her father's shop. Of course, we must pity Beauty. She was, after all, only a woman."

Chip listened, becoming more and more disgusted as Raoul went on with his "eulogy." While the name "Beauty" was often mentioned, the speech appeared to describe Raoul's personal vanity more than it did the tragic loss of the Baker's daughter. As Chip closed his eyes, he saw Beauty, two years old, walking down the aisle ahead of Cinderella at their wedding. A bright smile shone on her little face as she twirled down the aisle in the beautiful lace dress Cinderella had made for her. Chip remembered that day as if it were yesterday: Jack had stood up for him, Red for Cinderella, and Beauty had tossed flowers down the aisle; daisies, tulips, roses… roses. Chip's eyes teared up at the thought of roses as Raoul ended his speech. The Baker nodded, it was about time. As if overcome by emotion, Raoul left the funeral then, followed, much to Beauty's family's relief, by most of the village. A tall woman with her blonde hair pulled into a loose bun stood up next. Her figure was just slightly larger than the average woman's, whereas when the giantess had attacked, she had been a chubby thirteen-year-old. This woman was normally seen wearing nothing but red, however today she wore a modest black gown. She smiled sadly at Chip.

"I'm so sorry about what happened to Beauty, Chip." She whispered. "You can be sure that Jack and I will never forget her. I don't care what some of our neighbors think, Beauty was a wonderful girl. She was good, and brave, and Jack and I hope that our children grow up to be just like her. What do the villagers know, anyway?" she added defiantly, her true spunkiness beginning to shine through. "I'll bet that they all secretly wished they had a daughter like yours!"

Chip smiled back. "Thank you, Roberta."

Little Red smiled back and turned around, pulling up her tall, lanky, red-headed husband, Jack. The two of them walked to the front of the crowd to deliver their eulogy. As Chip the Baker listened to them describe how they each had helped bring Beauty into the world and how after the giantess attack they had been given the opportunity to help raise her for the first six years of her life and how Beauty had been a little sister to the both of them, he slipped back into his memories. He saw Cinderella, now his loving wife, heavily pregnant with Charlie. Five-year-old Beauty had hovered excitedly around her stepmother, always asking when was she going to be a big sister, was today the day they were going to go into the woods to get the baby, and could she please go too this time. Chip had had to explain to her that usually parents do not have to go into the woods to break a curse to get a baby and that her birth had been a special case. As Red described Beauty's innate longing for adventure, even at an early age, Chip again saw Beauty, this time six years old, begging him to let the nineteen-year-old Red teach her how to fell a wolf. Chip had refused to allow it, as he had decided upon Joanna's death that Beauty would never go into the woods alone. Now, looking back, he regretted that decision. Experience in fending off wild beasts might have saved his daughter's life! How could he have been so stupid? Jack and Red now made their way back into the crowd and Cinderella stood before them. As his wife began to speak, Chip saw Beauty again, thirteen years old and feeling ugly because none of the village boys seemed to like her; a fact that frankly, Chip had been quite pleased about. Cinderella had somehow managed to convince her that she was beautiful the way she was and that, eventually, the boys would notice this as well. This had proven all too true; this vision was soon replaced with one of Beauty, just the year before, complaining that Raoul would not leave her alone! Chip wished more than anything, more than life, that he had these moments back. Finally it was his turn. Standing beside the roses' grave, he addressed the mourners.

"All my life, I had wanted a child. Since I believed that both of my parents had died in baking accidents, at least my mother had, I was eager to begin a family of my own, as was my late wife Joanna. Therefore, beginning on our wedding night, we made every effort to conceive a child. However, no matter what efforts we undertook, Joanna never became pregnant. Even the strongest fertility potion the midwife could provide produced no effect. It went on this way for years into our marriage. Finally, after a fateful journey into the woods, we got our wish. My daughter's birth was owed to many others besides her parents and the grace of God. You see, a Witch had cast a spell on my father when he stole some rampion from her garden, leaving my family barren. That same Witch had also taken my late sister, Rapunzel. She agreed to lift the curse in return for a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn, and a slipper as pure as gold. Without Cinderella's slipper, Little Red's cape, Jack's cow, Rapunzel's hair, and intervention from my father, my eldest daughter, and all my children for that matter, would never have existed. When our long-awaited child was at last born, Joanna named her "Beauty," not only for her physical loveliness but the beautiful fact that our childless life was over. Beauty had been my pride, my love, my joy ever since. When Joanna died, it was Beauty that enabled me to hold on and to face the future. Beauty was a good child, sweet and well-behaved, and a lovely young woman. She loved her stepmother as if she had been her own mother, and was a perfect sister to Charles, Alfred, and Mary. She was beloved by all who were close to her. When times were hard, Beauty remained cheerful and optimistic, knowing that as long as the family was together, we'd survive somehow. Beauty was selfless and true and brave. I owe my very life to her. Beauty died handing herself over to a Beast in order to save me. I will never forget my dear, sweet, beautiful Beauty, and she will always hold a place in my heart. I know that she is with her mother, my Joanna, and will never again know sorrow or pain. But in my heart, Beauty will always live on."

After the preacher had buried the bouquet of roses, the villagers dispersed, except for Jack and Red and family, who stayed with the Baker and his wife and children. Wiping a tear from her eye, Mary knelt before her sister's symbolic grave and placed a small daisy on it.

"Goodbye, Beauty." She whispered. "You were the best sister ever." Then, turning to Joanna's gravestone, she added, "Ms. Joanna? Take good care of Beauty for us, all right? You're her mother, I want you to keep her company in Heaven until we get there, please. Thank you."

Cinderella smiled slightly at her daughter's sweet gesture. Although Beauty had been nineteen years old, her little sister still thought that she would need to be as much looked after as herself. Cinderella put her arm around her daughter, becoming misty-eyed by her darling innocence and devotion to her sister. Chip, in turn, felt the tears which he had been holding back all day beginning to run down his cheeks. His Beauty was gone. He had been too late to save her, unable to stop her going. He wished that it were him in the stomach of the Beast instead of Beauty, that it were Beauty who were still alive. Beauty had not deserved to die. All she had done was to ask for a bouquet of roses. The entire predicament was his fault. He should have been eaten instead. But no, Beauty was dead, and there was no curse he could break to bring her back. First Joanna, now Beauty. He began to burst into sobs. Jack, seeing this, offered to take the children home, which the Baker accepted. As soon as his remaining offspring had disappeared into the distance, in a fit of grief, Chip screamed at his daughter's tombstone.

"HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN SO STUPID????!!!"

"Chip!" Cinderella cried.

"You knew that beast was dangerous! I told you about him myself! You knew that going to him would mean certain death! I told you not to go! I said that we would find another way! You should have stayed inside the house, Beauty, and waited! Maybe if I hadn't gone to the festival, none of this would have happened, I don't know. But you should have waited! But no. NO! You felt that you had to offer yourself to the beast! You snuck out of the house while we were asleep and fed yourself to the creature before my very eyes! Your insatiable desire to see the world and your determination to have your own way brought you out into the woods at night! And now look where it's gotten you!" Hysterical, Chip began to sing tearfully to his daughter's tombstone. "**This is the beast I meant! Couldn't you listen? Couldn't you stay content within my four walls as I should have?**" The tears began to flood the Baker's eyes, and to stream down his face as he went on. "**Now you know what's out there in the world. No one stays untainted by the world… but that beast… BUT THAT BEAST!!!**"

"**We loved you as you were!**" Cinderella chimed in. Together, they bemoaned the loss of their precious daughter and stepdaughter.

"**EVIL BEAST, YOU HAD TO FEAST ON HER INSTEAD!**"

Unable to continue, Chip collapsed to his knees, sobbing as if his heart would break. His daughter, _Joanna's_ daughter, the only remnant of his first wife… his sweet, loving, beautiful Beauty… she was gone, gone forever. The Baker would never see her again in his lifetime. The tears flooded from his eyes, soaking the rose bouquet's grave. He couldn't even have buried his daughter. Every particle of what was once her body was now inside the stomach of the Beast, where he could never hope to reach it. ….. Softly, wordlessly, Cinderella knelt beside her husband. Wrapping her arm around his shoulder, she gently moved his head close to her neck. The Baker sobbed out his grief resting on his wife's shoulder as Cinderella, beginning to cry herself, sang softly to him.

"**No matter what you say, children won't listen. No matter what you do, children refuse to learn. Guide them along the way- still, they won't listen. Beauty could only grow from something we loved… to something we lost."**

"**Sure as a wave needs to be near the shore… you are the one I was intended for…**"

A month had now passed since Chandler had returned from his unsuccessful expedition, which had been ended early due to the wrecking of his ship, and the Prince still had not forgotten the mysterious girl with the beautiful voice who had saved his life. Quite the contrary- she now possessed every particle of his being. Every second of the Prince's life was filled with nothing but thoughts of her; what she might look like, the clothing she might wear, what her personality might be like, where she might be from. Her name, her age, her height, her weight, the color of her hair and eyes- all of these questions wafted constantly throughout Chandler's mind, leaving him restless. His waking hours were given to fantasies about the girl, fantasies in which he sailed the seas on an expedition and discovered her, fantasies in which he brought her to court, fantasies in which he proposed to her and she accepted. He daydreamed about their wedding day: seeing his beautiful rescuer walk down the aisle on a gaily decorated ship towards him, taking her hand in his as he promised to be a good and loving husband however long the two of them may live, kissing her at the altar; then the ball afterwards, where she would sing along with the music being played and the two of them would dance until they collapsed joyously. He would then take her sailing with him, and together they would see the world and taste whatever adventure came their way. They would have children: little princesses with their mother's beautiful voice and spunky little princes with their father's taste for excitement. At night, his dreams were filled with images of the girl. Her appearance varied every time he thought of her, but the voice always remained the same. Chandler only had the voice to go on in his search; however, it was permanently ingrained in his mind. He would find the girl. He mused on this, singing her little song to himself while he stared out of the castle's huge bay window overlooking the woods as a servant came in, announcing that his father requested his presence. Sighing, Chandler made his way towards the palace gardens, where his father, the late Rapunzel's Prince and his consort, Snow White, awaited him.

"**We'll sail away on a ship… as silver as…the moon. And the storm will turn to sun… on an island… where the earth and sea… are one…**"

Under the sea, Brina was lost in fantasy as well. Kneeling in her garden, her fins rested haphazardly along its rock border, she picked up a red blossom in her small hands and held it close to her chest, singing to it. For the past month since her sixteenth birthday, all she could think about was the handsome, charming, perfect Prince Chandler she had pulled from the storm. How the weight of his body had pressed majestically onto her shoulder as she'd thrashed desperately in the relentless waves to bring him to shore. How her hands had molded themselves around his head as she sang to him, her fingers digging into his soft, browning skin. How his hair had smelled like the salty breeze blowing over the ocean's surface. She shivered in delight at the memory. A month after the rescue and the very thought of him still stunned her like the sting of a manta ray. If she hadn't seen him with her own eyes and touched him with her own hands, she would have sworn that he was nothing more than a dream; the man was just too godlike to be really true. Yet he was. For days after the rescue Brina had tried to forget him, had constantly played her grandmother's warnings against humans in her head, had endlessly strained her brain in her effort to remove the Prince's face from her memory. Sadly, all of her efforts had failed; she only succeeded in making herself want him more than ever. Yet, this was not so tragic. Brina had never been in love before. She had never known how it felt to want someone so badly that she would do anything, go anywhere and face anyone for like her sisters had: Aquafina had announced her engagement to a merman king from a distant sea five months before, Misty had had a long succession of mermen callers ever since she was old enough to be attractive to males, the son of the Sea Queen's Head Advisor had been courting Oceane for years and was rumored to be considering asking for her hand, Liat had recently begun flirting discreetly with a renowned scholar who was a frequent dinner guest at the palace, and Coraline had had a crush on one of the castle guards for as long as Brina could remember. Brina had been happy for her sisters, but a small part of her heart was given to jealousy over the fact that they all had found a man whom they adored and she had not. Now, however, Brina had found a prince who, in her eyes, was more perfect than all of her sisters' beaux combined.

Putting down her flower, Brina gazed lovingly at a tall, marble object standing regally in the very center of her garden, surrounded by anemones. A statue of a human towered over the plants, its white marble gleaming in the shimmering water. It stood tall and proud, its muscular legs exuding strength and power. He wore an odd-looking suit that appeared to be made of many square pieces of coral fastened together all over his body. In one arm he carried a frightening object about the size of his head; a cylindrical object with a clamplike opening where the human's mouth would be and a razor-sharp spike at the top. Brina assumed that this was some type of lobster trap and shuddered every time she looked at it. His other arm was raised towards the surface, holding a long knife into the air. His eyes gleamed heroically at the mermaid as she stared at him. Brina had found this statue two weeks ago when she had been out swimming and had found the remains of a floating object much like her Prince's, decomposing on the sand after a terrible wreck. The statue didn't resemble Chandler at all, except for the fact that it had legs and a face, but its very humanity reminded Brina so much of the one she loved that she immediately took it home. She now looked at it every day, wondering if Chandler even remembered her. _Somehow, someday_, she'd decided long ago, _I am going to be with him. _ The mermaid smiled as she remembered this, and blew the statue a kiss. _ I will become a human. I will find Chandler. And then, nothing and no-one will ever separate us. All I need is a little help, and then my Prince is as good as forever mine. _

"Brina!" A call resonated from the castle. Startled, Brina turned around, wondering who had addressed her. She saw Oceane waving out the window at her, surrounded by their other sisters. Brina turned towards the palace.

"Coming!" She called out, flipping happily up through the water towards one of the palace windows, through which she glided to receive her sisters in one of the many coral halls of their home. The mother-of-pearl tiles glinted on the floor in the reflected light from the burning ball above the surface of the surface as the five mermaids sat on them, their backs against the pink walls of the palace as they babbled incoherently to each other. As soon as she saw Brina, Misty leapt up, dropping the seashell necklace she was polishing, and swam over to her, backing her against the wall.

"All right, Brina!" She ordered, her blonde hair flying into her younger sister's face from the force of their impact. "We've given you a month. Now it's time for you to share. What happened to you when you went to the surface?"

Brina trembled inside at the mention of her surface venture. When she had returned from her excursion, after the Captain had come to Chandler's aid, she had gone straight to her bedchamber where, sitting in her clamshell bed, she had thought about her handsome human all night. Knowing that her grandmother was completely against the idea of any of her granddaughter's so much as _going near_ humans, _let alone_ saving the life of one or falling in love with him, Brina had wisely decided to forego telling her family about what she'd seen on the surface. Her silence about the subject had gone unrevoked for the past month, but Brina knew that it was too good to last. Sooner or later, someone was bound to notice her lovesick state. Now, the hour of judgment was upon her.

"Well, Misty, surely you don't need ME to tell you what's up there," she stuttered. "I mean, you ARE, after all, three years older than I am. You've seen it many times before!"

"She isn't talking about that." Aquafina rose, gently placing her sampler on the ground as she did so. "You know that, Brina. Something strange happened to you while you were on the surface. Something that, well, I'll simply say it didn't happen to any of us."

"You went up there for a few short hours a normal, carefree mermaid. You came back besotted." Coraline added, looking up from the book she had been reading.

"But by what? Hmm?" Misty interrupted. "That's what we are all wondering about, Brina. What has caused this sudden change in our baby sister's personality?" Brina made no response. "Come now, Brina! Why the silence? You've never kept secrets from us before!" Mulling this over, Brina decided that her sisters were right. She had always confided in them before. They had always been reliable sources of advice for their sister. Maybe they could help her find a way to be with Chandler!

"Well… all right!" Sighing in anticipation of what was to come, Misty finally relented and backed away, letting Brina swim to the center of her sisters. Beaming with excitement, Brina began to tell her story. Caught up in the memory, she closed her eyes, reliving it, feeling once again the daze she found herself in when she first saw her Chandler, the terror she felt as she saved him that he would not live, the happiness she had felt when she had saved him. As she told the story she thought that maybe, just maybe, her sisters might feel the same way that she felt. That they might support the fact that their sister was in love with a human and perhaps, might be willing to help her. However, when she opened her eyes, she saw her sisters' faces frozen in expressions of shock, their jaws dropped almost to the sand. Aquafina was the first to break the silence.

"No, Brina." She stammered. "No, you're not. You're not in love with a human, Brina."

"Yes!" Brina giggled, "I am. I love the human prince Chandler, Aquafina. I cannot help it, but I do."

"Well, you'd best help it!" Liat chastised. "It's unheard of! You know what Grandmother always says!"

"Humans are barbarians! Humans are graceless and vile," Oceane quoted. "Beware young mermaids, the humans are dangerous. If you meet one, your days have met their end!" Oceane seemed strangely sad as she said this.

"But my Dear Sisters," Brina insisted, "Chandler's not like that. He's kind and he's brave. Didn't you listen to my story? The only reason he ended up in danger in the first place was because he was trying to save the other humans from the bright, hot waves crashing inside the floating object! I know I can be with him! I know it!"

"Well, believe whatever you will," Misty admonished. "But I wouldn't tell Grandmother all this."

"Tell me all what?"

A hush came over the mermaids as Assyria, Queen of the Oceans, entered the hallway, her long, purple tail trailing behind her, the twelve oysters attached to her fins scratching at the tiles, the pearl chain around her tail dangling in the water. Her silver hair, which flowed like waves about her body, sparkled with the salt of the oceans, aided by a silver and pearl tiara resting on her head. Around her neck rested a chain of the finest pearls under the ocean, donated by the most respected oysters beneath the waves. Bangles of sea glass covered her wrists. Although she was very old- almost three hundred years- there was not a wrinkle on her face. Her entire personage bespoke a majestic aura. In awe and embarrassment, her five elder granddaughters hastily swam from the hall, leaving Brina to face their grandmother alone.

"Come now, Brina," she gently chastised. "What is it you are hiding? Do not keep secrets from me."

Bina shivered. Although her grandmother appeared calm and collected, she knew that on the inside, Assyria was tense and impatient. The Queen of the Oceans tolerated no contraband. If Brina did not tell her her secret now, Assyria would stop at nothing until she found out. Stuttering, she found her voice.

"Grandmother, I… When I was up on the surface, I saw a floating object. On it was a group of.."

"Humans?!" Assyria cut her off. "Brina, my Dear, tell me that you did not go near them! Please say that you avoided them!"

"Actually, Grandmother…" Brina faltered. "there was a storm at sea. One of the humans was blown off of the floating object. And- and I saved him, Grandmother. I saved him! I carried him to an island, and I stayed with him until he awoke. And he was beautiful, Grandmother, and he was perfect, and I-"

"No, Brina. No!"

"And I've fallen in love with him!" She blurted out. "Oh Grandmother, please! I know that you feel that humans are beneath us! But please, I have fallen madly in love. Isn't there something you can do to help me to be with him? Perhaps you know someone who can be of assistance. Someone with magical powers, or who is in direct communication with the humans who can-"

"No, Brina." Her grandmother snapped. "It is out of the question. No. You are never to mention this to me again. I forbid it!"

"But Grandmother, please-"

"Enough!" Assyria sighed, running her hand through her hair in exasperation. Brina moved towards her, intending to utter a rebuttal, but her grandmother interrupted her. "Brina... the time has come that I told you about your parents."

Brina reeled back, surprised. This was not what she had expected. What did she mean by that? "I thought they died in a swimming accident… in the middle of a storm."

Assyria shook her head mournfully. "No, my Dear. It is time you knew the truth. Your sisters learned it as well at your age." Sighing deeply, as if about to cry, she braced herself and continued. "One day, your mother and father decided that they needed to take a rest from their royal duties. It was during the Great Seaweed Famine, you see, and the peasants were continually badgering them with their concerns. Being the saintly figures that they were, they did their best to accommodate every problem that could arise, but it grew to be too much. Therefore, on that fateful day, they left the steward in charge of the royal affairs and they set off for a much-needed swim." She paused, drawing for breath, choking on her words. "They never came back. It wasn't until a few days later that I learned the awful truth. A fleet of floating objects like your human's were hovering over the area where they were swimming. And hanging over those floating objects, into our waters, were scores of nets. The humans were in the midst of one of their hunts. Your parents saw the nets and tried to swim away, but were caught along with a school of fish. The humans that caught them were… especially barbaric. They saw that they were mermaids, saw the halves of their bodies that resembled those of humans, heard their screams… but paid them no mind at all. Your parents' tails were brutally chopped off and they bled to death. Their bodies were then tossed overboard, where they evaporated into sea-foam. The tails were given to a human prince, who had them served to his mistress. There was a storm the night they were caught, so I told you girls that they died in it, feeling that for the time being, you were too young to handle the truth. I told all of your sisters the truth when they turned sixteen." Tears flowed from Assyria's eyes at the memory. "Those evil humans. Not a care in their minds for the lives of merpeople, no respect at all for them. My beautiful daughter… her charming, brave husband… food for the barbarians! You see now, Brina, why I cannot let you pursue this human you speak of. You will only end up hurt, my Dear. The humans will see you only for the value of your tail. Please, Brina," She begged, her voice taking on an anxious tone. "Be happy with your life beneath the waves. Forget about the human. If you do not, it will end in your death. Live your life under the sea until your days end peacefully, and you become foam on the sea's surface. Be wise, Brina."

Brina was stunned. Her parents had been killed by humans? New grief welled inside of her as she thought about this. No wonder Oceane always looked as if she would cry when she heard about mermaids' tails being chopped off and sold. That fate had befallen their own parents! Horrified, Brina tried again to forget Chandler. _He's a barbarian, Brina_, she tried to convince herself. _You should not have saved him. Better to have let him drown. If you pursue him, you will likely end up like your parents. _Yet would Chandler do that? Something told Brina that he would not. Hadn't he been there when the other humans needed assistance? He had nearly given his life to save them! No, Brina decided, he would not harm her. Struggling, Brina found her voice.

"Grandmother, you're wrong! My Prince would never do such a thing! I know it!"

Assyria glowered. Her impudent granddaughter was committing the gravest possible offense to her parents' memory. "Brina," she snapped, "You are not to speak of this human again! You are not to look for him when you are on the surface. In fact, until I feel I can trust you not to go in search of him, you are not to go near the surface. We shall say no more about this."

"I am sixteen years old!" Brina shouted at her. "I am of age! I think that I am old enough to understand what is best for myself! I am going to find my human, and like it or not, I am going to be with him! Whether it pleases you or not, I am in love with Prince Chandler!" 

Her words were cut off there. In a fit of anger and concern, Assyria slapped her granddaughter across the face. Brina reeled back in shock, a red mark forming on her right cheek. Gasping in horror at herself, Assyria rushed to her granddaughter, full of remorse for letting her anger go so far that she would hit her own flesh and blood, but she was rebuffed. Hurt, Brina swam from the room, as fast as her fins would carry her, holding her burning cheek in her hand. That did it. She was going to be with her Chandler. If her grandmother and sisters couldn't help her, she was going to sneak out that night in search of someone who could. Someone who would help her, that is, if Brina were willing to pay.

In the deep, pitch-black dark of night, the Beast's castle was still in peaceful repose; at rest in a separate universe of dreams and visions until the arrival of morning. In the kitchen, George the cookstove snored, putrid black puffs of smoke belching from his oven at every snort. The kitchen utensils and towels slumbered in piles all over the room, waiting to rise with the sun and be called into duty by Melinda, who had collapsed into a heap in the red parlor. The embroidered figures in the tapestries seemed to relax in their rigid positions, as the peasant could not intrude upon their surroundings until morning. Somewhere in the palace's depths, a crowd of suits of armor polished off a crate of wine bottles, becoming tipsier by the second until they loudly fainted to the floor. The poker tossed and turned in his post at the door to the hallway to Beauty's room. Ludwig had laid himself down on a luxurious cashmere carpet somewhere in the castle and lay dreaming of the day when he would possibly be able to dance with the poise and grace of his former glory, instead of tripping over the four clumsy legs that held him up. By the large front door of the castle, a platinum coat rack snored gently. In the purple bedchamber, Jaqueline lay flat on the vanity table as Vivienne stood rigid in the corner, her doors gently folded shut. The candles in the chandelier above burned dimly, as if about to go out, only barely illuminating the sleeping face of the room's beautiful tenant. Lost in the atmosphere of her dreams, Beauty floated once again on a misty haze. _This seems familiar_, she found herself thinking as the swirling clouds carried her. _Yet I suppose all dreams do. But where have I seen this place before? _Little had she had time to wonder when the fog in the center of her vast nothingness swirled, forming into the shape of a man. As Beauty blinked, the handsome prince was before her again.

"Hello, Fair Beauty. Will you marry me?"

Beauty sighed. Another proposal. Her head spinning, she wished with all of her being that the mysterious prince would understand that there was no question of her marrying a man she had only just met. It was not proper. There were vows, ties, needs, standards… in short, she could not attach herself to him without proper acquaintance.

"I am sorry, Sir, but I cannot accept your proposal."

The Prince, however, was unfazed. "But you must, Beauty. I cannot live without you. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me, Beauty!"

"I cannot! I will not! For God's sake, I don't even know who you are! Please let me alone." In her bed, Beauty tossed and turned frantically, becoming entangled in her lavender satin bedsheets and violet cashmere blankets; moaning out refusals, rebuttals and rejections.

As the castle slept, a series of small, eerie footfalls scuttled across its marble tiles. A mouse sprinted down the hallway, desperate to make it into its hole before it was apprehended. Something streaked behind it in hot pursuit, and that something was not about to let its prey escape. Silently the small figure crouched and in a flash of black fur, pounced upon the mouse, killing it instantly. Smirking in her satisfaction, Catalin pulled herself to her haunches and licked her paws, pleased with her work. _3.7 seconds, _she mused, picking up her freshly slaughtered snack. _Getting better, Catalin. When your gift is finally appreciated, what a little warrior you are going to make. Once you are accepted into a legion of.._ Catalin's thoughts trailed off there. She was never to be accepted into a legion of anything. Due to her rash impulses, she was trapped in a castle with a naïve peasant girl and a rampaging, bloodthirsty beast. It had been a month since they were first trapped inside the castle, and so far the Beast had shown no intention of relenting in his vow to keep them there forever. Beauty had been avoiding the creature since their arrival, keeping to her room with the exception of meals, which she made sure to always take in the kitchen when the Beast was out hunting. _Peasant Girl, that may just be the smartest thing you've ever done._ Catalin had run into the Beast multiple times, and he didn't seem to be fazed by her claws, which she kept at their sharpest, or her sword, which she kept brandished every time she saw him. For once, Catalin doubted her abilities. She wondered if she really would be able to protect the Peasant Girl. Well, as long as she was not betrayed, she'd try. She hoped Beauty would not betray her. The last time Puss in Boots had put her trust in a human, she'd been betrayed, and… well, she'd better not be betrayed again. Silently, Catalin carried her prey to a barren corner of the castle to eat in peace and await the morning.

_OK. First off, sorry for the delay, AGAIN! You would not believe how busy I've been. Secondly, the mysterious accent has now introduced himself as Ludwig. I promise that at the end of every chapter in which he says ANYTHING I will include a "Ludwig-to-English Dictionary." This chapter, what he said, in order, is: "Perhaps the maiden is thirsty." "If you desire wine, you need only open one of the suits of armor. The wine will flow right out of them. I warn you, however, they are always intoxicated." "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Beauty. Castle dancing master and escort at your service. I am known for being a paragon of grace and punctuality." "It's these wooden legs!" Thirdly, I know that in all versions of the Little Mermaid, there is a father. But from what I remember of the original, he rarely showed up and instead the grandmother basically ran the whole "stay away from humans" thing. So in my version, there is just the grandmother and Brina's parents… well, we know what happened there. Fourthly (is that a word?), YES I named the Mysterious Man "Frexspar". YES after "Wicked." Fifthly, you may have noticed that Chandler not only knows that he has a peasant cousin, but has obviously had much close contact with her. I always figured that the Baker, although he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, is not so dumb that he would not eventually put two and two together (making four) about his sister. _

_We now know the present situation of the Baker, Cinderella, Jack, Little Red, Rapunzel's twins, and the Baker's Child…but what happened to the Witch? Find out in the next chapter._

_ I believe I don't have to tell you that if you flame me, the only use it will go to is the manufacture of magic baked beans?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Ok, you're either going to love me or hate me for what I did to the Witch. Please, please let it be the first one. _

In a cave many miles away from the undersea kingdom of Queen Assyria, where the ocean flowed into a river, which flowed into a brook, which flowed into a stream flowing through the woods, lived a dark, mysterious woman. She had lived reclusively in this cave for about nineteen years now, without aging a day. Nobody knew who she was, how old she was, or what events in her life had brought her to her current situation. All that was known was that she was there, that she did not appear to ever intend to leave, and that she could be potentially lethal if trifled with.

Many rumors circulated throughout the ocean about this strange, mysterious woman. It was said that she was a powerful witch who had once resided in a house on the outskirts of the Woods in which she made her home, and that she was once the owner of a garden whose vegetables, particularly the rampion, were the envy of the entire kingdom. Rumor had it that the pregnant wife of her neighbor had coveted that rampion to the extent that she thought she would die if she did not taste it, and had pressured her husband, a poor baker, into stealing the vegetable. The husband had supposedly been caught stealing the rampion by the mysterious woman who was, to say the least, not at all happy to be awakened to a raid on her beloved plants, even if that raid were for the sake of an unborn child. Her reason behind what happened next varied among storytellers: some said that she was the spurned lover of the Baker, hurt by his marriage to another woman and longing for vengeance; others said that she was a barren woman who had sworn her eternal hatred on all other women who were capable of bearing the children she could only dream of, still others insisted that her actions derived merely from the fact that she was an ill-tempered witch, furious at the theft of her greens. Whatever her reason, however, every storyteller agreed that she allowed the Baker to take some of her rampion for his wife, on condition that he give her the infant as soon as it was born. Many people swore that the woman had possessed a fatal beauty unlike that of any other women, which had been replaced with age and ugliness when the Baker also stole six magical beans from her garden. The story went that the woman had indeed taken the child, a beautiful baby girl with hair as yellow as corn, from her neighbors; not only that but she had cursed them and their small son with barrenness. She had raised the baby girl as her own, so it was said, and had locked her in a tower with no doors or stairs for an unknown reason; the majority of the rumors had it that the woman used her daughter's long hair to visit her in the tower. Eventually however, so many merpeople swore, the adopted daughter had been impregnated by a Prince; and in her fury the woman had chopped off her hair and banished her to a desert. History had lost the daughter's story here, and much of the woman's: all that could be recalled was that she had abandoned her neck of the woods during a giantess attack, that she now had a host of air-spirits in her employ, all of whom were obtained under questionable circumstances; and that in regaining her beauty, she had lost her powers. But it was also said that she was capable of making potions that produced miraculous effects, and that was exactly what Brina was looking for. Therefore that night, as soon as the entire coral palace was asleep, Brina set out to find her.

Armed with the strongest willpower and determination, Brina sailed silently out of one of the coral palace's many windows, bolting it shut as she exited. With a final wave goodbye to the family that slept within, she turned, plunging headlong into the waves. Squinting, she glanced from side to side between the waves, trying to use the moonlight reflected on the water to determine which way she should go. Brina realized, in trying to choose a direction that she had absolutely no idea where she was going. Besides which, she realized, the misty haze of the bottom of the ocean at midnight was as thick as algae. She could be swimming for hours, days even, before she so much as found the opening to the river that would eventually take her to the Witch's cave. And what would happen when she actually found the Witch? What if all her efforts were in vain, and the mysterious woman was unable to- or refused to- help her? All of her efforts would be in vain! Yes, that probably **was **what would happen. She would return home dejected and just as finned as ever. Not to mention Assyria would be furious when she found out exactly where her granddaughter had swum off to. And find out she would- Brina could recall numerous times when she had tried to hide incriminating secrets from her, and Grandmother had always found out. She had a variety of different techniques: sometimes, she used the process of elimination; sometimes, she had forced the truth out of Brina by putting her through hours, days, once it had even been a week of ceaseless guilt; there had even been times when one of her sisters, rather than Brina herself, had been coerced into telling the truth and exposing their sister. Oh yes, whichever way she decided to do it, Assyria would find out, and it would not end well for Brina. If she thought she had faced punishment before, it would mean little compared to what she would receive if she was refused magical assistance. Brina would probably never be allowed within ten leagues of the surface, or possibly even outside of the palace ever again. She might never see Chandler again. But wait! If she turned back now, she definitely would never see him again, or tell him that she had saved his life! Chandler would never be hers if she didn't seek out the Witch's assistance. Brina knew that the odds were not in her favor, but at least she had to try. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the waves, headed north, hoping beyond hope that she had chosen the right direction.

For three hours, Brina swam, thrashing her tail as fast as it would go against the current. Straining her eyes against the darkness, Brina traversed over miles of the deepest ocean. She swam through rocky trenches and coral reefs, burst through schools of fish and sunken shipwrecks, ducked around anchors and narrowly avoided getting her tail caught in a lobster trap. Where she was, how far she had traversed from the coral palace, she did not know. All the mermaid could think of was the fact that she must find the cave. She must find the Witch. And she must become human. Finally, she found herself swimming through a brook, cutting through a vast expansion of brown-green land, densely packed by rocks and a tall, rough-looking sort of brown seaweed with what appeared to be some kind of green kelp growing out of it in bunches. This, Brina supposed, must be what was known as "the woods," as she had been told to watch for by an aging mermaid whom she had bribed with the bracelet Liat had given her for directions, innumerable leagues before. In the distance loomed a tall, formidable structure. The Witch's cave! This must be it! With mounting enthusiasm, Brina plunged completely underwater and began swimming as fast as her tail could carry her to the back of the cave, where she had been told for the small extra fee of one of the scallops attached to her tailfins there would be an underwater entrance to the Witch's chamber. However, what she saw as she began to draw nearer and nearer made her shake uncontrollably with fright. For growing out of the ground, completely surrounding every path to the entrance shaft, were tall, fearsome stalks of the deadliest breed of seaweed known to merman. The polyps, whose heads nearly touched the surface of the brook, resembled snakes with a hundred heads. Their leaves were wiggling, sticky tentacles which reached out into the distance, waiting to grab their prey. Whatever they caught, they would hold fast, wrapping more and more tentacles around it until the unfortunate being suffocated. In this way, they drowned the humans and land animals and suffocated the ocean creatures. A closer look told Brina that many polyps had been successful in the hunt: many held the skeletons of fish, a few had ensnared the shells of turtles, one polyp held the remains of what appeared to be some form of lobster indigenous to these "woods;" there was even a group from whose tentacles sea foam appeared to be rising. When Brina swam up to see what it was, she reeled back in shock: rotting in the grip of the polyps was the corpse of another little mermaid who had passed this way not long ago. Brina gulped, willing herself to go on. She might have known that the Witch would set traps. Breathing heavily, she wrapped her hair around her body, hugged her arms to her chest, and plunged into the forest of polyps. Somewhere on her journey she felt one yank the other scallop from her fin, another unwind the string of pearls from her tail, but eventually she swam into the cave from a hole at its depths, unharmed.

Upon rising through the hole and throwing herself onto a hard bed of rock, Brina looked around to find herself in the coldest, most sinister-looking room she had ever seen. Darkness filled the cavern, penetrated only by a small light coming from the mouth of the cave, and a small pinprick of light in the distance. The horrible, choking smell of smoke filled the air, making the mermaid cough and gag. Bravely, she pressed on, following the pinprick of light as she flopped into the next room. When she got there, her bravery immediately left her at what she saw, and only by reminding herself that she was doing this for Chandler was she able to keep herself from leaving. She found herself in a bare, cold room of black stone. Long spikes reached down from the ceiling; Brina was sure that if one stood up straight, they would poke right through the person's brain. All around the room floated a host of air spirits: frightening, withered, transparent beings, with half of the body of a human, the bottom half being replaced by what looked like a white puff of seafoam. They raised their tired eyes to Brina, glaring grotesquely at her. Brina noted with shock that one of them bore a striking resemblance to the strangled body of the mermaid caught in the polyps. At the center of the room were two holes in the stone floor; cauldrons, one of which was lit and glowed a ghastly white; the other one was empty and dark. A section of the back wall of the room had been carved out into a set of shelves. Reclining on a stone bench carved in the middle of the cave, next to the lit cauldron, was the most terrifyingly beautiful woman Brina had ever seen. Her white skin seemed luminous in the dark cave, and her brown eyes flashed fire at the new invader. She wore a strange human garment; what looked like a long, low-cut bag with sleeves made of purple velvet. Attached to this was a flowing red velvet cape, and around her neck hung a necklace of rubies. In her abundant auburn curls, she wore a black hair ornament. She looked absolutely perturbed at having her solace destroyed by the mermaid.

"Who are you? What do you want?" The Witch snapped, glaring daggers at Brina.

"Um…" she began, awestruck by the Witch's intimidating figure. The Witch raised her eyebrow indifferently at the mermaid, as if telling her that she could either speak up or leave her alone. Stammering, Brina pressed on. "My-my name is Brina. Princess Brina of the Oceans. I am ter-terribly sorry to disturb you at this time, it's just that… I n-need your services. You see, I have fallen in love with a human. A Prince Chandler." At this, the Witch leaned closer to her, as if listening. "His floating reef- a ship, I believe they are called- was damaged in a storm, in a series of fiery waves. He fell overboard and I saved him from drowning. But I had to leave him before he awoke. He only knows me by my voice. I must find him, and I cannot live on land. Having legs is my only chance. Please, Mistress," she begged, tears beginning to fill her eyes, "I didn't know where else to turn. Nobody understands my situation or is willing to help me where I come from. You are the only one I can turn to. Can you please help me?"

The Witch cocked her head to the side momentarily, thinking about this. This mermaid had come to her for assistance in procuring what was probably the most extreme wish that she had ever been asked to grant. The mermaid wished to become a human. There was no other way she could be with the Prince that she had saved, the Witch knew this. If she did not assist her, all hope was lost for the poor mermaid. Her Prince would eventually forget about her and marry someone else, and the mermaid would spend the rest of her life aquatic and miserable until she finally died and her body became foam on the surface of the ocean. It all revolved around whether or not the Witch could transform her tail into a pair of legs. The Witch darkly laughed inside. Of course she _could_ help the young mermaid. The question was _would _she? If she were to make that certain potion the mermaid needed, what would the mermaid be willing to give her in return? How great would her payment be? Would the result be worth her effort? In short- what was in it for her? The Witch Giovanna, unbeknownst to Brina, had a wish of her own that she was desperate to fulfill. The rumors about her were in fact all too true. She had been as powerful as she was beautiful long ago, and she had cultivated a garden containing rampion of a quality that surpassed all other vegetables. Eventually a young woman named Rosamond, her pregnant neighbor and the wife of the Witch's former lover Frexspar the Baker, developed an unusual appetite for Giovanna's rampion. Afraid to risk Rosamond's health, Frexspar had snuck into the garden and stolen not only the rampion, but six magic beans, robbing Giovanna of her beauty. As punishment, Giovanna had taken the baby- a girl, whom she named "Rapunzel," a variation on the word "rampion"- and had cursed both Frexspar and his small son, Chip, with barrenness. For years, Giovanna had longed to regain her youth and beauty. The opportunity for this had never presented itself until many years had passed since she placed the curse and Chip was now fully grown, married to a woman named Joanna and longing for the child they could not have. Giovanna remembered that bargain as if it had been placed the day before: she'd given them three days to procure a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn, and a slipper as pure as gold for her to give them a child. They had found all the ingredients for the potion- even Frexspar himself, who had disappeared shortly after the abduction of Rapunzel, intervened- and she had regained her youth, but at a terrible price. Giovanna lost her powers, and for what? One whiny little peasant brat: Chip and Joanna's daughter, a darling little demon with red hair. And that name! _Beauty!_ What kind of parent named their child "Beauty?" Giovanna fumed at the mere thought of the entire irritating family. Beauty would be about nineteen years old by now, provided she'd survived the giantess attack, and she was probably as much a liar and a thief as her parents and grandparents before her. Due to the dishonest tendencies of mortals like Beauty's family, Giovanna had lost her powers and was desperate to regain them. However, the potion required for this was proving to be even more difficult to come by. She still lacked three ingredients: the voice of a mermaid, the hair of a mermaid, and a pair of iron shoes whose soles were worn to shreds. Once again, Giovanna could not have touched the ingredients; furthermore, the hair and voice could not have come from the same mermaid and the shoes would have to be completely worn out in the span of a month. The final requirement was nearly impossible: once Giovanna had all of the ingredients, the potion would be activated as soon as one of her previous curses was reversed. What were the odds of that happening? Giovanna was proud to say that she had placed a great many curses following the spell of barrenness that started her whole predicament, but very few of them had any chance of being broken. She gazed at the bubbling cauldron by her side, full of the makings of the potion that held all her chances of power, and allowed her mind to wander to the young son of King Salazar the Third and Queen Serafina-of-the-Twenty-Mattresses, the one she had transformed into a beast, her last curse before the loss of her powers. He would be about twenty-seven by now, surely a girl would come to the castle and… the Witch shook her head. It was never to happen. If Giovanna remembered anything at all about the royals, it was that Salazar the Third was more tyrannical than any other king she'd ever encountered and Serafina-of-the-Twenty-Mattresses was as narcissistic as her husband was controlling. Their son had obviously inherited an awful combination of their traits, which had no doubt been magnified as years passed. What girl was going to willingly subject herself to such people, **let alone** fall in love with one of them? It was hopeless.

Giovanna also had another goal that she aimed to accomplish. After her mother had died and she had been abandoned by her former lover in favor of Rosamond, and she had taken Frexspar's daughter, little Rapunzel had quickly become the only person in the world that the Witch was capable of loving. Looking back, Giovanna supposed that this was why she had imprisoned her daughter in a tower with no doors or stairs, hidden deep in the middle of the woods. She had been terrified that she would lose Rapunzel, like she had lost the girl's father so many years ago. Giovanna had had so little love in her life that she never thought she'd be able to bear the loss, and hiding Rapunzel in some remote location seemed to be the only answer at the time. Her efforts were in vain; nineteen years ago, Rapunzel had committed suicide by throwing herself under the foot of the giantess attacking the kingdom. Her baby had died prematurely, and the person holding the blame was none other than one of the two princes of the kingdom. Over twenty years ago, the king and queen of this particular land were secure in their family's reign, having two male heirs to the kingdom. However, they had raised their sons to be charming, as opposed to sincere, and as a result the two princes flitted constantly from maiden to maiden, breaking dozens of hearts as they contested each other to leave the longest string of lovers behind. The younger son, Prince Victor, had come upon Rapunzel's tower and seduced her, eventually getting her pregnant without the girl's knowing about the subject. Later on, he had taken Rapunzel from her mother, who was now powerless. As if this had not been enough to earn Giovanna's eternal hatred, when Rapunzel died, the Witch found out that Victor had been sneaking off to visit a sleeping maiden from the next kingdom. He would have to be dealt with, as would Rapunzel's son, Chandler, who had undoubtedly become the same as his father, without having had his darling mother's good influence over his upbringing. Although by capturing a host of air spirits, Giovanna now had a means by which to get her ingredients; in their airlike forms they would not be able to perform this sort of task. Perhaps the mermaid could help her here as well…

"You wish to become a human?" She asked the mermaid, mulling this over.

"Only if it's not too much tr-"

"You wish to have your tail replaced with two legs, so that your Prince Chandler may fall in love with you after you saved his life, do you? I know what it is you wish. It is very foolish of you." Brina hung her head. The Witch was not going to help her. She knew this would happen. Now she'd never be with Chandler. The Witch smiled a sinister, chilling smile. "However, I am willing to help you achieve your wish." Brina smiled in disbelief. She had a chance! "I will make you a potion that will transform your silver tail into a pair of legs. You will be able to walk and live on land, and with luck, you will find your Prince. However, it will not be easy winning his love. And there is a catch. Therefore, before I proceed with making the potion, you must agree to everything I tell you."

"I will do anything you say." Brina managed to say, excited and thrilled that she would soon be with her beloved Chandler.

"When I have finished the potion, you must swallow it all at once. You will then be overtaken by pain, as if a sharp sword were running through your tail, again and again. When the pain passes, your tail will be gone, replaced by legs as I said, but every step you take will feel like sharp knives cutting through your foot. Walk for too long and the pain will begin to draw blood. Besides this, I assume you realize that once you are a human, you will not be able to survive under the ocean and therefore can never see your family again."

"I will brave it, so long as I can be with my Prince," Brina uneasily agreed, thinking momentarily of how she would miss her family.

"Finally, I'll need a certain payment for my efforts." Hearing this, Brina began to undo her shell necklace, but Giovanna raised her hand to signal that it would not be sufficient. "No. I will require something much more valuable than your trinket. What I want from you is…" Giovanna paused while she thought about this. She needed the voice and hair of two separate mermaids. Well, here was one of her mermaids. Finally a mermaid had survived the polyps that she had planted in the water surrounding the cave upon taking up residence, using seeds that her mother had left her before she was burned at the stake by angry peasants, the only thing besides a sack of magic beans to survive the giantess attack. But did she want her voice or her hair? "…Your voice," she decided. As Brina began to protest, Giovanna cut her off, gesturing an air spirit towards the shelves. "That is my price. You will still have your beautiful form and your pleasant manner; that should be enough to charm your Prince. Now, I have a potion that will draw your voice from your body." As she said this, Brina could see one of the ghoulish air spirits plunging a knife with an ornate silver, amethyst-studded handle into a black jar. "I will cut your tongue and your voice will be expelled within moments. Also, there is another aspect to my payment. Your Prince must marry you. If he should marry another woman, beginning on his wedding day you belong to me."

Brina shuddered. "I will… I'll… Done!" She finally blurted out. She began to breathe heavily at the thought of what lay ahead, and of what she would face if she failed to win Chandler. She sighed, straightening up. She would just have to try all the harder to get him to love her. The air spirit who resembled the dead mermaid now approached Brina, holding a black, wooden box with silver at the edges and on the hinges and clasp. The Witch, meanwhile, had taken the knife, now treated with the potion, a potion she had made long ago in the event that she ever were able to obtain a mermaid's voice. Austere and frightening in her deadly beauty and seriousness, she loomed over Brina.

"Put out your tongue," she ordered. Shivering, Brina knelt before her and complied. She felt one fast cut, and the deed was done. "**I am the path leading to no return,**" the Witch darkly sang.

As the air spirit held the container close to her face, Brina could feel her throat beginning to contract, her vocal cords stretching. Her voice was beginning to come out. Somehow she managed to blurt out "I… would die for him…" before her voice exploded from her throat in one, long high note piercing the air. Brina shook, unable to control the force of her voice. She felt weak, helpless, as if someone were reaching down her throat, pulling the life force from her body. The music did not feel as if it were coming from her, it seemed rather as if she were listening to herself. She continued to watch, helpless, as her voice floated away from her body, a blue mist filling the box with an eerie glow.

"**Secret of life nobody wants to learn.**" Giovanna warned, watching in satisfaction as the naïve little mermaid's voice filled her box. She had done it! She now only needed two more ingredients for her potion to be ready for activation. Perhaps, if she played her cards right, she could also furnish her entire plan for revenge out of this stupid mermaid's little fling with the human Prince. After all, there was no possible way he could love the mermaid. She had said herself that Chandler only knew her by her voice. Without that asset to help her, Brina was as good as finished. The prince would never know that it was she who had saved him. If Chandler did fall in love with her at all, it would only be for a small romantic tryst as his father had long ago with her Rapunzel. After being abandoned, surely Brina would want to kill her betrayer. Soon, there would be nothing but to wait. "**I am the ship gliding to distant shores!**"

"**Now his life is forever mine!**" Brina's voice exploded out of her throat in a burst of blue light as she was thrown back into the wall of the cave by the force.

"**Your life is forever mine!**"

Her entire body throbbing with pain, Brina lifted herself from the ground. Kneeling she stared at the blue light glowing from within the box: her voice. "**And I am… yours…**" she heard it sing as the box was closed. The deed was done. It was over. Finally, she would have the potion and she would be with Chandler. Yet as the Witch bent next to the empty cauldron and reached down a hole next to it to light it, Brina suddenly remembered all she had promised to g o through to get her Prince. Winning his love would be almost impossible without her voice. He definitely would not recognize her when he saw her, she knew that much. And without her voice, not only would he not be able to tell that she was the one who saved his life, but she would be unable to tell him. Brina shivered as the Witch moved toward the shelves, grabbing various jars and dumping their contents into the mixture, which was beginning to boil over as if it were trying to come out of the cauldron and swallow the mermaid whole. She shivered as a low moan began to rise from its depths. That potion represented all the pain she would be enduring in the near future, as well as all that would happen to her should she fail to win her Prince's hand. The more she tried not to think about it, the more the dread filled her mind as the potion began to take on the color of the ocean during a storm. The frustration of silence, the blood and the pain brought on by walking, the horrible prospect of becoming this terrifying woman's servant for the rest of her life… once she drank it, there was no turning back. She had signed her life away. For the first time since she left her palace, Brina began to honestly doubt she could to this, and to seriously consider trying to run.

Brina watched in horror as the mixture bubbled inside the cauldron, seeming to grow in volume as it boiled higher and higher. It changed in color as rapidly as it grew- from a sickly green resembling algae to a musty grey, to a revolting shade of purple and finally to the pitch black of the cave's walls. She shivered in fear at the sounds emanating from the cauldron as the potion simmered. It sounded like the screams of thousands of merpeople whose tails were being chopped off as they slowly, painfully bled to death. Had Brina still possessed her voice, she would have screamed along with them in her fright. _Did my parents scream like this the day they were killed_, she wondered. She slowly backed away, only to feel her arms grabbed by what felt like an icy gust of wind. However Brina struggled, she could not break free of the freezing air. Terrified, she glanced at her arm and reeled backwards on sight of the thin, bony hand, white as a sand dollar that held her fast. She looked up and immediately turned away when she saw that she was being restrained by one of the Witch's air spirits, its hollow, worn face glaring at the mermaid as if to say _You will not leave this place. You are trapped, Mermaid! Struggling is useless- you cannot turn back now that you've no voice!_ Brina stared at the floor of the cave, trying not to look at either her captor or the potion, which shrieked louder and louder as the Witch added more and more ingredients, the exact ones used Brina could not help feeling relieved that she did not see. When she had finally mustered up enough courage to look up again, she immediately wished that she had not. The Witch had taken the knife, still dripping with Brina's blood. With a savage grin at the mermaid, the Witch pressed the blade into her own hand, viciously slicing her palm. Having undertaken this procedure, she held her hand over the cauldron, letting the thick red blood drip into the ghastly mixture. A could of grey steam exploded from the potion as she did this, and the screams became louder and more urgent than ever. Brina swallowed, fighting the urge to vomit. The shrieking of the cauldron was becoming more than she could bear. Pressing her hands to her ears for a split second before they were yanked off by the Air Spirit, she attempted to regain her composure, to convince herself not to mind the fact that soon, she would have to _drink_ that stuff. She was now thankful that the Witch had decided to demand payment and take her voice before she began to concoct the potion; Brina was certain that had she been able to speak, she would at that very moment be begging the Witch to stop, pleading that she had changed her mind, that the human really did not matter all that much to her. She could not have done that- if the Witch had listened and taken pity on her, ceasing to concoct that horrible slime whose boiling was finally starting to die down… Brina would have lost her last hope of ever being with Chandler. The mermaid gulped and sat up straighter, bracing herself. She had to be strong. She had to go through with this. She was going to take that potion, and no matter what pain was inflicted on her during and after the transformation, well, she'd endure it if it meant that she could join herself with the human prince that she loved.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Brina, there was silence. She cocked her head, listening. No screams arose from the cauldron. Was the potion finished? Curious, Brina flopped closer to the cauldron as the Air Spirit released her from its grasp, seemingly satisfied that its prisoner would not attempt to escape. The liquid had settled down to a smooth substance with the consistency of water. It resembled water as well; gazing into its clear surface, Brina could see straight down to the dusty grey depths of the stone cauldron. The brew rippled in the light breeze that began to fill the cave as morning broke, distorting Brina's nervous reflection as she stared. The mermaid's inhibitions were temporarily replaced with amazement. How in the world had that awful concoction the Witch was brewing become this? This clear, watery substance looked absolutely harmless compared to the pulsating, screaming monstrosity it had been mere minutes ago. Looking closely, Brina could not find a trace of any of the strange and fearsome ingredients that had been thrown in; not even a drop of the Witch's blood could be seen. She leaned over the edge of the hole, half-expecting some hideous creature to arise from within its depths and pull her in. Nothing. Yet still, she would have to drink this. And once she had done so, there would be no turning back. The pain would take over half of her body, leaving her with legs instead of fins; a pain that supposedly would return every time she took a step. The pain caused by walking would mean nothing to the ache her heart would feel at never seeing her family again. Never to laugh and gossip with her sisters, never to tell them secrets or hide her misdemeanors from Assyria. Her face fell remembering this. She barely had time to further consider the consequences of her actions before she was roughly nudged aside by the Witch.

"Don't just sit there gawking!" she snapped, pushing the mermaid out of her way and crossing towards the shelves. _Foolish child_, she mused, rummaging through the top shelf. _Exactly like my_- here, the Witch paused, realizing that her Rapunzel had been exactly the same way. Rapunzel, for some reason her mother would never understand, had loved that unfaithful, disgusting wretch of a Prince Victor with the exact strength of the mermaid's love for Rapunzel's son, Prince Chandler. Rapunzel's adoration had been strong enough to cause her to lie to her mother, going behind Giovanna's back by allowing a visitor into her tower, an act she knew was forbidden for her own safety. Rapunzel had been willing to sacrifice her beautiful long hair and her safe haven for a man who would eventually leave her for some idiotic wench from the next kingdom whose only remarkable quality was her snow-white skin. Giovanna shook her head at the memory as she finally found a silver, amethyst-studded goblet and seized it off the shelf. Rapunzel's little mistake would be avenged soon enough! Without a word, she lowered the goblet into the cauldron. Once she had filled it, she drew it out and thrust it at the mermaid. "Drink this."

Taking the goblet into her hands, Brina gulped. This was it. This was the moment of truth. There was no turning back now. Once she drank this potion, the deed would be done. Her tail and fins would be magically transformed into legs and feet, and never again would she be able to return to the ocean. From this point on, she would have to pretend that her family was dead in order to avoid homesickness, as she had no doubt they would think she was when she did not return home after a few days. She would have to go off in search of Chandler, and when she found him, hopefully make him fall in love with her. She must make him fall in love with her. If she did not… Brina did not want to think about belonging to this beautiful, yet terrifying woman. To be her slave for as long as she may live… shuddering, Brina raised the goblet to her lips. _I must be brave_, she thought, shutting her eyes. _Mustn't stop now, not now that I've come so far. This potion is the only thing standing between me and Chandler. Once I drink it, I will have a chance at having him for my own. Do it for Chandler. For Chandler. For Chandler. _Her mind focused on the image of her beloved Prince's face, his shining blond hair, his sparkling blue eyes, his brave, confident attitude; Brina threw back her head and drank. The liquid running down her throat tasted more horrible than anything she had ever eaten or drank before in her life. She felt increasingly sick as the goblet emptied. She felt her stomach churning, her throat contracting; Brina desired nothing more than to vomit and rid her body of this disgusting potion. _For Chandler. For Chandler. _Finally, at long last, the goblet was empty. Now, there was nothing but to wait._ For Chandler…_

She waited, for how long she did not know. A moment? An hour? A day? Brina could only guess as she knelt on the cave's floor, awaiting her transformation. Suddenly, she felt it! A pain unlike any she had ever felt cut through her tail with the intensity of a thousand knives. Brina collapsed, wincing in pain as she felt her tail burning, the cut deepening. She closed her eyes, unable to look at what was happening to her for the agony she was in. It was as if a shark had captured her tail in his jaws and was not about to let go. She was being ripped to shreds and unable to stop it from happening. Brina tried to concentrate on Chandler, straining herself in her effort to remember that she had the best of all reasons to be undergoing such torture, pleading with her thoughts to return to her future with her Prince: that magical moment when she finally found him again, their marriage, their life together. Her efforts were all in vain- the only thing running through Brina's mind as she felt her tail finally split in two, the halves beginning to burn and shrivel, was that the pain her parents had felt when they were murdered would feel like nothing compared to this. Had she still been able to, Brina would have screamed loud and shrill enough to rival the boiling of the potion itself. As it was, she writhed and contorted in pain, biting her lip in an attempt to lessen the horrible sensations that were shooting rapidly up and down the two halves of what was once her tail. Was she bleeding? It didn't feel that way, and she was not about to open her eyes and find out. However, she felt weak, as if the very life had been drained from her. With desperate concentration, Brina willed herself not to faint, unsure if that would have any effect on the results of drinking the potion. Exhausted, she finally lay still, awash in pain, praying every second that this pain would end, unsure if she could endure much more, even if it were for Chandler.

The pain died down. _Thanks be to Poseidon!_ Slowly, wearily, Brina's eyes fluttered open. Had the potion worked? She turned her head towards the lower half of her body, trying not to expect a miracle. What she saw made her jump backward in elated disbelief. For staring past her midsection, instead of her long silver tail, she saw two separate, elegant white limbs which bent at the center. As for her large, blue fins, they had shrunk and taken on the same color. Her mouth agape, her eyes as big as sand dollars, Brina sat up, running her hands over the new limbs in wonder, unable to believe they were really there. The Witch had done it! She had legs! Brina was a human! Jumping to her new feet in excitement, she stumbled to the Witch, momentarily heedless of the new pain that was shooting up her legs like the slice of a knife. Unsteady on her new legs, she fell flat at the sorceress's feet as she looked on in what appeared to be slight amusement. Unable to thank the Witch, Brina instead took her hand in her own, raising it to her lips. The Witch, in turn, yanked her hand away from the mortal in shock and disgust, turning into the next chamber of the cave. In a moment she reappeared, carrying what appeared to Brina to be some sort of human garment woven out of what looked like the fibers of dried seaweed. It slightly resembled the outfit worn by the Witch herself, except for the fact that while hers was ornate and complemented her figure, this one appeared to have no shape at all, no defining attributes except for a large hole at one end, and a smaller one at each of the other three. This was unceremoniously thrust at an uncomprehending Brina.

"Put this on," the Witch ordered. Brina cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she was supposed to do. Giovanna inwardly sighed at the mermaid's density. "Don't stare at me like that. Your long hair won't serve as adequate clothing on land." Still staring, the mermaid obeyed, yanking the sack over her head. "Remember everything I told you," the Witch warned, glaring at Brina once more. "You must win your Prince's love. If you do not, the day he marries another woman you are mine." Brina nodded. "Now go to the wood!" Turning towards the light at the end of the cavern, Brina took her first limping steps toward her future. Almost immediately she felt it: jagged knives cutting into her feet, ripping her apart although her feet stayed intact. The pain was amplified by the rough rock floor of the cave, actually cutting into her new feet, making her bleed. Brina winced, swallowing her pain. She was just going to have to endure it. It would be hours at least before she found Chandler, and it would only take longer if she let the pain hold her back. Grinding her teeth, she bravely pressed on into the light, beginning her search for the Prince she loved.

As she watched the mermaid stumble out of the cave, Giovanna opened the box carefully, not allowing herself to touch the precious voice. Slowly, she poured it into the potion in the cauldron nearest her bench, which glowed brighter, having now gotten one more necessary ingredient to restore Giovanna's powers. As she stoked the fire beneath it, she took pride in the fact that she had come closer to achieving two goals at once. The mermaid would never win her Prince's love without her voice. Before long, she would be desperate to evade servitude, and when that happened Giovanna would make her an offer she couldn't refuse. Victor, Chandler, or both would be dead and she wouldn't have to lift a finger. Giovanna sighed. She would have done the deed herself years ago, possibly even rescued Rapunzel while she lived, if she could have been sure that she could go anywhere near the palace without fear of arrest and execution; Victor had been convinced he'd saved Rapunzel from an abusive parent who'd blinded him. She'd also wanted to guard Rapunzel's daughter, Elise, from her mother's fate, but it was already too late for that; Victor had gone and married the girl off before she could spirit her away. Ah, well. Before too long, she would have the thieving Prince and his son dead. Reaching into a hidden pocket of her cloak, she pulled out a silver, blue diamond-studded hairbrush, strands of hair as yellow as corn still stuck in its bristles. The back of this hairbrush had one word engraved into it: Rapunzel. Giovanna held the hairbrush close and kissed it.

"Worry not, my Rapunzel," she whispered. "Mother will soon set things right."

"**She saved me from drowning, she sang me awake, but then she ran away. I've found my true love, I'm sure of it, but why couldn't she have stayed? Agony! How my blood starts to fizz! She sang so sweetly. I've lost her completely. Don't know who she is.**"

Late that afternoon in the woods, Prince Chandler was making his way home from a hunting expedition. He had had a fairly successful hunt; his silver horse's back was laden with a freshly-killed deer and four fat brown rabbits hung from its bridle. Now, Chandler was riding closer and closer towards the palace at a slow, steady pace while the Royal Steward followed behind on a copper mare, lecturing the Prince about the expectations his father, Prince Victor and his uncle, Prince Robert, held for him. Chandler barely suppressed a groan. It was the same thing every time he left the castle to hunt or to sail or undertake other adventurous pursuits; his father would always dispatch a servant to assist him. Usually it was the Steward. And whenever the Steward had a moment alone with Chandler, he would always be sure to launch into a diatribe on how he should desist with his adventures and begin to go off in search of young maidens to romance. More than once that day, Chandler had thought of spurring his horse into a gallop and losing the old windbag in the woods. Maybe that would finally impress upon the man that he preferred discovering new lands, saving lives and making a brighter name for himself to breaking hearts. However, he resisted the temptation, knowing that as a Prince, he was expected to show dignity. Instead, he tried to concentrate on thoughts of the mysterious maiden who had saved him, as the Steward continued his lecture.

"Yes, Your Highness, I am aware that you have made a vow only to marry the woman whose voice you heard that day upon the shore, but what you must realize is that chances are you were probably only hearing things. After all Sire, young women don't go rescuing people and then disappearing into thin air! "

"She's out there," he countered. "I'm sure of it. And somehow or other, I'm going to find her. Until then, I shall pursue no other maiden, for no maiden besides that one is of any interest to me. Father will just have to accept the fact that-"

"But Your Highness, you must remember that you may be ruling this kingdom someday! Your uncle, as you know, has no children of his own, and therefore after he inherits the throne the heir will be your father, and after him the throne will fall to you. It is your duty as a royal to extend the family line! Your sister, the Princess Elise was married at sixteen- four years younger than yourself, Your Highness- and she now has three daughters and hopefully a son on the way. You are now twenty years old! It is high time you finally found yourself a maiden or two. Your father expects that…"

His father. Chandler fumed in disgust at Prince Victor's hypocrisy. His father was pressuring him to ease off on his explorations, to find himself a maiden, to begin to court, implying that he find himself a wife, when in reality the man had been terribly unfaithful to every woman who had come into his life, hurting them more deeply than even Chandler could understand. And to think that during his childhood, he had wanted to be just like his father. The Prince remembered a time when he had idolized his father beyond all other men in the world, looking to him as a hero, considering his word to be law. That had been when he was a child, and had believed the story he'd been told that his mother, Rapunzel's death had been accidental and that his father had fallen in love with his stepmother, Snow White, after she died. That had all changed when Chandler had, at ten years old, returned inside the castle from his fencing lesson and found his stepmother crying in her sitting room. Snow White had refused to tell him what the matter was, no matter how he pressed her. Deciding he could be of no help, he had gone in search of his father, hearing laughter from the courtyard coming from his father and a female voice he didn't recognize. Unsure what to do, he had run to the nearest window and looked out to find Victor kissing a lady of court, and the way that they acted gave the lad reason to believe that they had gone even farther than that before. Young Chandler had not been able to stop thinking of this for weeks afterward, and began to figure that it was not entirely impossible that Snow White had been Victor's mistress when Rapunzel was alive and that Rapunzel may have thrown herself under the giant's foot on purpose, unable to face the pain.

Prince Robert, on the other hand, was even worse; after Cinderella had left him, his subsequent marriage to Sleeping Beauty had lasted a total of five years. Since then, he had been having affairs with nearly every royal female in the vicinity of the palace, none of which lasted long. Chandler had often heard Robert talking to Victor about his conquests, holding them all against one ideal: none of them could compare to Joanna. Chandler knew nothing about Joanna, except that she was a peasant woman that Prince Robert had had a one-night stand with on the night of the giantess attack and that she had never been seen or heard from thereafter. Chandler usually got a pit in his stomach whenever he thought of this as he remembered that Joanna was the name of his cousin Beauty's late mother, who had died in the giantess attack. He sometimes wondered exactly what she had been doing before… then he knew again that it was absurd. From what Beauty knew about her mother, Joanna may have thought the princes were handsome, but was unlikely to stray from her husband. Besides, Joanna was not such an uncommon name; there were probably a good number of peasant women named "Joanna" in the kingdom. It was probably not Beauty's mother. Beauty. Beauty probably would have understood his annoyance at his father and uncle's expectations, and his determination to find the maiden who saved him and most importantly that after years of witnessing Princes Robert and Victor's behavior he had vowed to be charming _and_ sincere. But Beauty was dead. She had been mauled to death by a beast in exchange for her father's life. The invitation to her funeral from his baker uncle had arrived while he was away at sea, so he hadn't even been able to pay his respects. He sighed, remembering it. Beauty had always wanted some excitement. Too bad her first adventure had also been her last.

"And furthermore, Your Highness, you are shutting yourself off to the multitude of other maidens clamoring for your hand. Remember, you are known for being one of the most handsome princes out of many kingdoms. You could have the world, Prince Chandler, yet you choose to ignore it! " the Steward rambled. "You were raised to be charming, and everyone agrees that it's about time you put it to good use! You are a young man, and a royal. It is your right, your privilege and your duty to…"

Chandler paused for a moment, gazing out into the fine evening mist as the Royal Steward continued to babble on about the Prince's Father and Uncle's expectations for the young man, unaware that his charge had ceased to listen. Had he seen what he thought he'd seen? Chandler blinked; the apparition was gone just as soon as it had appeared. The prince shrugged. Perhaps the cook had accidentally served the royal family some bad wine with dinner the night before. However, on hindsight the wine had not tasted any sourer than it normally was last night… Chandler mentally shook himself. Ever since he had been saved from drowning by a mysterious woman, he had been seeing the silhouettes of beautiful maidens everywhere he looked. The royal physician had said it was nothing to worry about, it was probably an after-effect of some trauma to the head experienced while underwater. He must have hit his head on a rock, or a piece of driftwood. It should be gone in a week or so. Yet it had been a month already since the accident and the visions still appeared, haunting Chandler, obsessing him with finding out who the woman was. And there it was again! A shadow stumbling towards him in the distance. As it drew nearer and nearer, Chandler noted in wonder that it appeared as if the shadow had never been properly taught to walk. Instead, the shadow teetered from side to side, leaping awkwardly around as it attempted not to trip over its own feet in a dance of agitation- and pain? The Prince noted with some pity that the shadow kept grabbing at her feet, as if they hurt her. As he continued to stare, mesmerized and convinced by now that he was not seeing things, a strange young girl bounded into the clearing, tripped over a rock, and fell flat on her face right next to Chandler's horse.

Gasping, Chandler leapt off his horse and knelt beside the fallen maiden, hoping that she was all right and making ready to offer his assistance as the Steward gaped in disgust. What he saw when he looked at her took his breath away in shock and wonder. The girl couldn't be more than sixteen, and she was more than usually tall for her age. Her skin was of a pale marble white with a pearly shine to it, as though she had never once in her life seen the sun. She was slender, but healthily so, as if she had spent much of her time exercising as opposed to being starved to death. She was wearing nothing but a filthy old sack, and upon closer inspection Chandler noted with shock and pity that the soles of her bare feet were covered in blood. She must have cut them on the rocks in the forest floor. No wonder she'd appeared to be in so much pain. What really struck Chandler, however, was her hair. With the exception of his mother's, this had to be the longest hair ever seen in the kingdom, stopping more than halfway down her legs. A pink starfish clung to each side of her head. Most strikingly of all, the hair was green; a light, jade-like shade reminiscent of sea foam. That was something that one did not see every day… yet the Prince decided politely not to think too much of it. After all, there were starfish in the girl's hair, she smelled strongly of the ocean, and on closer inspection her skin appeared to be damp. Perhaps she had been shipwrecked, and had simply followed the current through the ocean to the brook and into the woods. Chandler had heard of long exposure to salty water turning blonde hair green. Perhaps that was what had happened to her.

"Excuse me, Miss?" He murmured, gently shaking her. "Miss? Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

Slowly, the girl lifted up her head. Her eyes fluttered open and stared at him; large, trusting eyes as blue as the ocean. Her mouth gaped at him, like that of a fish, as if she recognized him. But how could that be possible? Chandler had only met her just that moment! Relieved that the maiden hadn't injured herself further, he gently guided her arm to his shoulder, draping it around his back as he helped her up.

"Come." He whispered. "Stand up." The girl strained to get to her feet, wincing in pain as her feet touched the ground again. "It's all right. You can do it. Here, lean on me. I will help you." At that moment, his horse whinnied furiously at the newcomer. Frightened, the girl backed away, grimacing in pain as she nearly fell over backwards, stopped just in time by Chandler's supporting arm. The Prince hurriedly reigned in his horse, his heart beginning to well up with pity for the strange girl. What could she have been through? Where had she come from? Why was she alone in the woods?

"Who are you? What is your name?"

Brina stared at the Prince holding her, mouth agape, dazed at all that had just happened. All that she could think was that she had done it. She had finally found her Prince. And here he was, holding her and talking to her, concerned already over her well-being. He was so kind. He had just asked her something, what was it now… her name! He had asked her her name! _Poseidon, where are my manners?_ Springing to attention, Brina opened her mouth and began to speak. _My name is Brina. I am one of the six princesses of the oceans. You may not remember, but we have met before, when your ship was destroyed in a series of fiery waves. You were tossed into the ocean and I saved you, that was my voice you heard! I-_ here she stopped, realizing that no sound was coming from her lips. Her voice! Now she remembered, it was gone, she had given it to the Witch in exchange for these legs! Chandler watched in pitying amusement as the mysterious girl's lips moved up and down, and then slowly ground to a halt, being replaced with an expression of utmost sadness. Brina hung her head in realization that she could not tell the Prince that she had saved him.

"You cannot speak?" The maiden shook her head. The poor thing was mute. Chandler's pity multiplied at this realization; no doubt she as well had suffered trauma to the head during her shipwreck, obviously a trauma that would make his seem mild. It would definitely explain her odd way of walking, as well as her muteness. Her feet had not looked very well either. Looking down, Chandler noted with shock that they appeared to be bleeding even more, and new cuts had sprouted from her ankles. Looking at her, only one thought ran through his mind: he could not leave her here. The girl was obviously lost, and without her voice and being as rattled in the head as she seemed, judging by the curious manner in which she stared at everything in the woods as if she had never seen it before, she would never last long on her own. A wolf might tempt her to stray from the path, eventually eating her. A troll or a witch might capture her. Even worse, the Beast which had ended Beauty's life might decide to make this girl his next meal. Anything could happen in the woods, and Chandler could not bear to have it on his conscience if anything happened to this strange maiden. Gently, he removed her arm from his shoulder and turned away.

"Wait here." Glancing over his shoulder to see that she was all right, he led the Steward off to the side. "We must bring her back to the palace with us."

Looking over Chandler's shoulder, the Steward could see the girl stumbling towards a nearby tree, wincing as her feet continued to bleed. Flailing her arms like broken wings, she lunged at the tree, grabbing at it to support herself as she fell. Judging from her strange behavior, the Steward could not help the penetrating feeling that the girl was insane, and possibly dangerous. She refused to talk, she stared and gaped like a lunatic, and she stumbled around as if her parents hadn't bothered to teach her to walk. And then there was that hair. Never had any maiden been seen in the kingdom who had green hair. Perhaps she was a demon of some kind! _The Prince must be mad,_ he thought.

"Your Highness, I think that perhaps, we should not. I mean, the maiden is obviously not… entirely together… and perhaps it would be in your best interest to leave her here. Perhaps someone is looking for her." _Although who would actually WANT to try to find this girl is beyond my imagining,_ the Steward added to himself. "Or if not, perhaps someone more experienced in matters such as these will come upon her before long. If you wish, I could facilitate this process; at your command I shall go and alert the madhouse-"

The Prince raised his hand, cutting him off. "No, I feel it best that we take her with us. The girl does not appear to be insane, she is simply lost and alone, and she is obviously in no condition to fend for herself. It would be heartless to leave her here, mute and weakened where there are any number of threats to her well-being. It would be only right if she stayed in the palace, at least until whatever is wrong with her legs heals or we find her family. Besides, as a royal son, it is my duty to protect her. As long as she is within the boundaries of my family's kingdom, she is my subject. What kind of Prince would I be if I simply left one of my own subjects to suffer alone and without any possible form of defense?"

The Steward paused and looked, along with the Prince, at the strange girl who was now sitting on the ground, staring up in the tree at a squirrel as attentively as if she had never seen one. With a smile too unnaturally large for the Steward's taste, she playfully began to imitate the squirrel's motions as it ate a nut. The Steward sighed and pulled the amused Prince Chandler back to face him. "In this case, a very sensible one, Your Highness."

"The girl will return to the palace with us." With that, Chandler strode over to the girl and gently placed his hand on her shoulder, brushing away strands of her salt-encrusted green hair. "Miss, may I offer you my assistance? How would you like to stay with me until we can locate your relatives?" The girl slowly tilted her head up to face him, gaping at him as if in disbelief. Chandler felt a quick pang in his heart. Had this girl seen so little kindness, then? Maybe she was in awe because he was a prince. Or maybe she worried that she would be expected to work for her keep. "You needn't worry. I expect no payment, nor do I want it. And I promise you, Miss, you will be well cared for. I will provide you with a comfortable room to rest in, and plenty of food to eat." His eyes fell on the sack she was wearing. _Perhaps she might fit into some of Elise's clothing that she left behind when she was married. _"And until your legs heal, you can sit or ride. I promise you, you'll never need to walk." She continued to gape at him like a fish. Chandler wondered if she was worried that he would try to take advantage of her, little knowing that Brina was simply in too much awe at the fact that she had actually found him to do anything but stare. Chandler went on. "I give you my word as a prince that no one will take any unwanted advantage of you, myself included. Will you come with me?" Smiling, the girl nodded. At this, Chandler lifted her onto his horse and steered off, followed by the exasperated Royal Steward.

As the Prince steered his horse through the royal grounds to the steps of the palace, a hush came over the palace servants as they stopped their work to stare at the mysterious maiden riding pillion behind him. They could not take their eyes away from this strange girl with her pale skin, her piercing blue eyes, her bleeding legs and especially her green hair. They stared at her, clinging trustingly to the Prince and staring at them as if she had never seen so many people in her life, and wondered what had possessed their Prince to bring a stranger back to the palace, especially such an odd stranger as this girl. Prince Chandler could have the world; he was every bit as handsome and irresistible as his famed father and uncle had been twenty years ago. Was this girl really his new mistress? They were relieved that the Prince was at last beginning his search for a maiden of his own, but why a silent, green-haired peasant? Not even a peasant- from the look of the sack she was wearing, she was probably a beggar. Or worse- a vagrant, a deported wanderer from some foreign kingdom. And after he had made a vow that he would only marry the woman who had saved him from drowning, who he only knew by her voice. This could not be the girl.

Feeling the girl's weight pressing into his back, Chandler felt a sense of compassion and devotion unlike any he had ever felt. True, he had been responsible for the lives of others many times before; he had extensive experience as a ship's captain, the reason he had almost drowned in the first place was because he had been trying to save his latest crew. Yet looking behind him at the maiden, who smiled shyly into his eyes, he knew that he had never felt such responsibility for another living person. As she clung to him, looking at him as if she had nobody else to turn to, he felt a strange affection rising in him for this mute, shipwrecked girl. Although he had only just met her, he felt as if he had known her all of his life. He felt as if he was born to provide for her, and knew that he would protect this girl forever if he had to.

It was all Brina could do to keep from falling off the strange, hostile form of dolphin carrying her towards her Prince's palace in her discomfort. She had never seen so many humans in her life! There weren't this many of them on Chandler's ship, she was sure of it. She shuddered closer to Chandler as they stared at her, sensing the threat they posed. _I had forgotten how many humans there are… and that many are unkind. _She glanced into her Prince's eyes, hoping he could sense her fear. _You have no idea what I've put myself into to get to you, Chandler. If you only knew what's happened to me…_ She shut her eyes, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist and feeling his gentle squeeze on her hand. _Oh, why do I worry so much? I should be happy! I've finally found my Prince, and before long, you shall be mine. Who cares if I've no voice? Eventually I will find a way to tell you that I saved your life, and when I do, we will never be separated again. I will never belong to that Witch,_ she mentally added as the horse stopped at the marble steps of the palace and she was lifted off by Chandler and carried inside. _She may keep my voice forever, I don't care! I don't need it! Soon Chandler will see that I am his rescuer. Now his life is forever mine!_

As Chandler lowered the girl to her feet inside the marble halls of the palace, he could not help but smile as she gazed around the entrance hall, staring at every detail. She acted as if she were experiencing everything around her for the very first time, and he found that strangely endearing. He had to stifle a laugh as the maiden stood straight against the wall, a serious expression on her face, in imitation of a suit of armor. He straightened up, however, when the Steward reentered the room.

"I have asked one of the maids to prepare a room for your guest, Your Highness." Chandler nodded as the Steward bowed. The Steward glanced at the strange girl, who had now wandered over to a tapestry, and was running her hands over the stitched words it contained. Sighing, he turned back to the Prince. "Your Highness, are you certain about this? She is a stranger, you know… and so very odd…"

"That will be all, Steward." Chandler glared at him, and the Steward was silent. He then turned to the maiden as she continued to stare at the tapestry. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?" Brina, during this time, had noticed the writing on the strange piece of fabric hanging on the castle wall. That was it! Here was a way that she could at least tell Chandler her name, if nothing else. With her hands, she made a sign to indicate writing. "Steward, I think that she wants a quill and paper. Please fetch them."

Grumbling, the Steward obeyed, and momentarily returned with a small slip of paper and a quill. Taking these, the maiden quickly scrawled something on the slip of paper and handed it to Chandler, pointing to herself. Holding the paper up to his eyes, Chandler found it blank, except for five letters. _Brina._ "Brina? Your name is Brina?" The maiden nodded, blinking her beautiful blue eyes at him. Chandler felt a cold sweat run down his back as she did so. What was it about her that he found so attractive? He could only guess. "Well then, Miss Brina. May I request the pleasure of your company at dinner tonight? I will have a servant show you where the royal dining room is." As Brina nodded again, a maid arrived and, betraying her disgust at the state of the girl in her facial expressions, led her away to prepare her for her first meal in the palace.

_Author's Note: First of all, as you have undoubtedly noticed, I have named the Witch Giovanna. And may I just tell you that she was without a doubt the hardest character in Into the Woods to name. I did not wish to borrow anybody else's name for her for the sake of originality. It was insanely hard to come up with one, so I started looking to other musicals. I thought of using the name of a character from Wicked, but then I thought it would sound cliché after naming the Mysterious Man Frexspar. The name Cunegonde from the novel/musical Candide was considered due to the garden motif and the fact that in the novel, Cunegonde starts out pretty but becomes ugly (much like the Witch, though Cunegonde doesn't change back). Long story short, it was ruled out (and I think you can tell why). After a while I gave up the musical names idea and settled on Giovanna. I was originally going to create a separate Sea Witch for this story, but then I figured, there is only one "The Witch." Second, YES, I did say that the Mysterious Man (Frexspar) was Giovanna's former lover. Based upon the way they act in the play, I am of the belief that the Witch and the Mysterious Man were once a couple, and then something, or rather a bunch of things, went wrong .I also believe that Giovanna lost her mother and inherited the garden when a mob of angry peasants gave her mother the Salem Witch Trials Treatment. I plan on doing a four-part series in my oneshot collection explaining the whole story in the very near future. Third, the air spirits are based on the original variant of The Little Mermaid. Props to anyone who knows what I mean._

_ It seems everyone on land except for Chandler thinks that Brina is either crazy, stupid, or up to something. Will that change anytime soon and how will Chandler and Brina's relationship continue to bloom and grow? How does Chip the Baker cope when he gets an undesired visitor? And what happens when Beauty finally begins to snap? Find out in the next chapter, hopefully up by Mirror and Rose's one-year anniversary!_

_ Reviews, as always, are welcome, and flames will be used to make magic baked beans._


	7. Chapter 7

A fine morning mist spread gloomily over a small clearing in the midst of a desolate garden surrounding the Beast's castle. The grass, trampled down by the paws of a giant creature, was a dull grey-green, more dead than alive. Small pinpricks filled the dry earth from the Beast's claws, and the few trees in the area were practically stripped of their bark. At the south end of the clearing, located on a small, desolate hill on the Beast's grounds, was a trellis, rusted over from years of neglect. Thorny, black vines coiled themselves up and around this trellis, rising from the ground as if trying to suffocate it. Bushes surrounded the area in a circle of various shades of green, brown, grey and even what appeared to be black in the dull light. The most striking thing about this clearing was that every single plant, from the bushes to the trellis vines and even the trees were overrun with roses of every conceivable size and color. Pitch-black roses and roses of a sapphire blue burst from the trellis vines like bruises on the metal. Gold and silver roses covered some bushes like fine decorations on a Christmas tree, while roses of more common reds, pinks, and whites blossomed from others. Roses blossomed with the beginnings of early summer fruit on the trees and some poked their heads between dead blades of grass. Although Springtime had barely run its course, the grounds abounded with roses as if it were Midsummer, creating an almost eerie contrast with the desolate state of the other flora.

A young, redheaded woman sat on a marble bench amid this pervading atmosphere of roses, sitting tiredly and dejectedly, as if she felt out of place. She wore a beautiful lilac silk gown, the bodice of which was trimmed with garnets and purple ribbons; the skirt made up of piles of tulle and satin flounces of various shades of violet. Around her neck, she wore a simple gold chain from which dangled a tiny daisy made of sapphires; the simplest adornment that she had been able to convince the castle image consultant to impose on her, still eyeing the gaudy, bejeweled chokers, heavy necklaces, overpowering rings and gleaming earrings askance after a month and a half in the Beast's castle. Her hair had been brushed more thoroughly than it had ever been in her entire life, giving it a satiny feel and a glow like the sun such as was unheard of in the small village she had come from. Dainty lavender silk slippers embroidered with bejeweled birds and flowers were fitted on her feet. From time to time, she reached around her back in an attempt to get under the back of her gown; her stays were laced much tighter than they ever were at home, thanks to Melinda, who had surprising strength for a feather duster, considering that prior to a month and a half before she had never even known an animate feather duster. Her face had been slightly made up; being unused to such things she rarely let Jacqueline apply too much artificial color to her face. After all the time she had been living in the castle, the face powder still made her sneeze. From the way she was dressed, any outsider would think that she was a princess. Draped around her shoulders, however, was a simple peasant's shawl woven of purple cloth with a pattern of golden half-moons. Beauty sighed, gazing into the grey morning skies. _At least Vivienne did not take Mother's shawl from me,_ she thought gratefully, remembering the horrified aura that had emanated from the wardrobe at the Baker's daughter's immediate protest when she had tried to hide Joanna's shawl within her depths, where it would not be found. She had already succeeded in hiding Beauty's everyday dress, her boots, her pink stone necklace and Chip's hunting knife and jacket. Beauty had somewhat given in to her handmaidens' will in dressing her, but she was not going to surrender her mother's shawl. She needed to have some remnant of her peasant life if she was to remain in the castle forever. Lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the voice of the clock stumbling about next to her.

"Ah, Mees Bayutya, ze soonraise, eet ees gahrgeyous, no?" Ludwig babbled, thrilled that his services as escort were once more desired. "Ahnd ze rohses!"

"Yes," Beauty murmured out of politeness to her escort, however in reality her thoughts were far from the sunrise, which was really rather grey and misty as opposed to the brightly colored sunrises she'd been accustomed to at home, and the scenery, although later she would wonder why ever since she had arrived, roses had been in full bloom on every plant in the garden, even the least logical. At the moment, her mind was focused on listening for the click of the Beast's claws on the marble tiles of the first floor, or the rush of his body coursing down the hallway, ready to burst out the door at any given moment. When that moment came, Beauty wanted to be long gone. "It's very beautiful."

Ludwig, taking no notice of the flatness of Beauty's tone, continued to stumble about the yard. "You laike rohses, Mees Bayutya. Eef you laike, you cahn peek sohm for yoursealf." He chuckled, making a slight ticking noise as he did so. "Zey do, ahfter ahll, bayloong to you nohw, ahss you nohw raiseed een ze cashtla."

No. Never again. Beauty had sworn to herself shortly after she'd found herself imprisoned in the castle that she would never bring a rose into her home again, however long she may live. They had only brought pain to her. Since offering herself to the Beast, Beauty had hated the flower, seeing it as a symbol of all she had lost. Because she had told her father that she wanted a bouquet of roses as opposed to being honest with him and telling him that she wished for his trust that she could handle herself in the woods, she would never see Chip, Cinderella, Charlie, Alfred or Mary again. Because she had wanted a bouquet of roses, she could never leave this place. Unless the Beast should die before herself, Beauty would be trapped for the rest of her life under his control, and judging from the monster's strength and stamina, she doubted this was likely. Sometimes Beauty wondered if, had she told her father what she'd really wanted, things would have been different. If perhaps, he would have understood her point of view and allowed her so much as one measly hour in the woods on her own after all. Yet, she wondered, could she really have handled herself alone if he had? After a month and a half's imprisonment, Beauty had begun to doubt this. As she shook her head at Ludwig, she wondered why she had allowed the household objects to convince her to visit, of all places, the gardens this morning. Perhaps it had been to get her out from underfoot- since her arrival at the palace, almost, she had hidden in her room, terrified that the Beast might attack her, leaving only to take her meals. No matter how much her handmaidens had cajoled her into leaving the room, she would not budge unless she could be sure the beast was not around, and even then she would only leave when Catalin was with her. She supposed, from the objects' point of view, this must be fairly annoying- surely they would want some time to themselves. Ludwig especially would want her to leave her room, if only for the chance to be an escort again. However, Beauty was just too intimidated by her captor to care. She glanced over at Catalin, who was at this moment leaning against a dead tree, sharpening her claws. Catalin, feeling the peasant girl's eyes on her, turned her head.

"Why don't you just take some of the roses, Beauty? What have you got to lose now?" She stared at the bark flying off of the tree as her claws shaved it bare, what little bark remained after the Beast had been there. _Just a few minutes more and my claws will be sharp as my dagger! _After a few days in the Beast's castle, when Beauty had made it clear that she was hiding in her room indefinitely, the cat had taken to leaving her there and going outside by herself to practice her techniques. There was nothing that would harm Beauty in her room, and as a result of her practice, Catalin dared to hope that she was gaining enough experience to pose a greater threat to the Beast. However, she did wish that the Peasant girl would grow a spine and join her outside every once in a while. The Beast was gone for now; it was perfectly safe in the gardens. The way Beauty avoided the Beast was childish, and possibly unhealthy.

_My life_, Beauty thought in response. "No, _thank you_, Ludwig, Puss in Boots. Maybe some other time." She continued to stare at the grey sunrise, knowing that that "other time" would never come and thinking of her family and the life she left behind. She wondered how her father and stepmother had reacted when they'd seen her letter, if Charlie and Alfred still teased Mary, if Raoul had found another maiden to chase. All of a sudden, she heard the eerie click of claws on the tiles from within the castle. Shivering, she realized that the Beast must be going out on one of his hunts. "I think I'd like to go inside now, Ludwig." She murmured, shifting herself towards the clock. "I, um… believe I just heard the Beast coming."

Ludwig bowed. "Ahss you vish, Mees Bayutya." Taking Beauty's skirt in his flap, he began to gently pull her in the direction of the castle as she got up to follow. Catalin scoffed at them, grudgingly sheathing her claws. _I had almost gotten my claws sharp enough to potentially do some damage. _

"Beauty, you can't keep avoiding that Beast forever. Don't forget; you're trapped with him for the rest of your days. Eventually, you're going to run into him again." She rolled her eyes at Beauty as she rushed after her.

_Not if I can help it, _Beauty thought, hastening towards the castle door and running Ludwig ragged trying to keep up with her in the process.

"Koom, Mees Bayutya, Poosenboots. Pearhaps I cahn ayscort you to aynoother peart off ze cahstla. Zere iss ze ahrmoorya, za librairya,ze bahllroom- pearhaps I cahn interrrest you een a dahncing layssohn, Mees Bayutya!"

"No, thank you." Beauty murmured, much to Ludwig's disappointment. "I would just like to rest in my room for a while, if it doesn't offend you. Thank you, Steward," she added, curtsying as a platinum coat rack opened the door for her, locking it as the group entered. Beauty had recently learned that the royal Steward was on strict orders only to loosen the locks on the door if the party entering had express business in the castle. She wondered why, then, he had let her father in the night before the theft of the roses. He would have needed the Beast's approval to gain entry, and Beauty highly doubted that the monster had wished to invite the Baker into his castle. It made no sense to her. Yet there was nothing about this castle that didn't defy all reason. If someone had told Beauty a year before that someday, she'd be following a talking clock into a castle inhabited by a Beast, she would have said they were mad. Yet there was Ludwig, leading her past the red parlor to the stairs and jabbering on and on in his mysterious accent as Puss in Boots stalked ahead of them with her dagger unsheathed. Her fear of the Beast and confusion at the talking objects were almost enough to drive Beauty mad.

In the past few weeks however, Beauty had also grown to accept the hospitable treatment of the household objects, and indeed to become accustomed to it. She now considered it commonplace for a poker to leap into a door handle as she walked in, opening the door for her so that she never had to stop on her way around the castle. While the torches in their sconces still sometimes alarmed her when they lit themselves upon her entrance to whatever hall, staircase or room they were in, Beauty had grown to appreciate and to expect their accommodating ways. It had become part of Beauty's routine every morning, as soon as she woke up, to listen to the input of her armoire on which gown she should wear that day and that of her hairbrush regarding accessories. She would then go down to the kitchen, having by this time become nearly used to having to dodge a drunken suit of armor or two on her way, knowing especially to beware those armed with battleaxes as, just her luck, they had often drunk the most wine. Practice had taught her how to drain these same suits of armor to get her wine, which they were surprisingly willing to allow, although Beauty was still unused to the wine's strong taste. Although it still seemed alien to her that a stove would cook her food for her, George had been very attentive to her tastes in food and had even been willing to make her her favorite peasant dishes that she had enjoyed at home, trying to accept the fact that the rich food he was accustomed to cooking sometimes didn't agree with Beauty's stomach. And along with George, she was rarely at a lack for company in the kitchen- there was always a plate, or a towel, or a cooking utensil to talk to, although Beauty was shocked that her talking silverware did not appear to be hurt when she took a bite of food. While she was still hurt by the relentless disapproval of the people in the tapestry, she had at least accepted that it would show every time she walked down the corridor to her room. It was very convenient to have her candles put themselves out whenever she wanted to sleep, once she'd gotten used to it; and she thanked Vivienne for the slippers that appeared beside her bed every morning so her feet didn't get cold when they touched the floor. She had gotten used to being able to ask the clock what time it was, and she supposed it wasn't every castle that had a steward who could open the door and take your cloak at the same time- Chandler's steward certainly couldn't, from what she'd been told. Aside from the Beast, and the horrible pain of separation from her family, Beauty sometimes thought she ought to try to consider herself lucky- there were many ways in which this prison could be worse.

Still, even more maddening than the strangeness of life in the castle was the amount of mystery the place had to offer. While as far as rooms went Beauty had only visited the kitchen, the red parlor and her own bedchamber, she had sometimes suffered Ludwig to lead her down some of the castle's aisles after being assured that the Beast would be gone for the entire day in question. Every floor she had seen of the many the castle had to offer seemed more ornate than the last, and all were different. Every floor was tiled with a different precious item: one was as silver as that of her room, another glistened with shining bronze, another was made of pearl surrounded by a blue-silk hung wall which made Beauty feel as if she were underwater; Beauty had even seen one floor consisting of a mosaic of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. On some floors, Beauty had found other walls covered in tapestries, the inhabitants of which did not seem any happier with her presence than the stitched figures decorating the hall on her floor. However, wandering other aisles with Ludwig, the girl had seen quite a few curious sights. On one floor, she'd passed pedestals mysteriously robbed of their busts; she'd glanced into rooms and seen tables, but no chairs; some of the bright walls were covered in dust, large cleaner spaces indicated that a painting used to be in the spot. What had caused these sparse furnishings? Beauty had also frequently overheard the servants talking about someone by the name of Serafina. From hearsay, she had discovered that Serafina was the woman who had once resided in this castle; whose bedchamber, in fact, was the one Beauty now slept in. She had also learned that she had been married to a man named Salazar and had most likely been of royal blood. From the atmosphere in the room and the items it contained, Beauty had been able to deduce that she had been very fond of the color purple, and that she had had very expensive, flamboyant taste in accessories. Rifling through the jewelry box she had seen bangle bracelets made entirely of diamond, sapphires the size of robins' eggs, there had even been a necklace with a ruby the size of Beauty's fist. It stood to reason therefore that she had also been very vain, an idea supported by the number of mirrors she had seen while racing down the halls to her room. However, this was all that was known to her. Beauty had a great many questions, but the vast majority remained unanswered. For instance, where had Serafina gone? Had the Beast had something to do with her disappearance? Perhaps he had killed her and Salazar in order to take over their castle. However, how would one explain the missing furnishings and statues, and the empty spaces where pictures were? It did not add up. Serafina must be somehow connected with all this, Beauty figured, but how? It certainly could be that she had simply packed up and decided to move away, however that seemed unlikely, considering the furnished state of the castle and its strange inhabitants. It was evident from the insulting things the objects sometimes said about her that Serafina was unkind- had she maltreated them? What could the servants have suffered at her hands? Beauty longed to know, but the objects, for some reason, had never let much information slip and did not seem to welcome questions. As the door opened on the flight of stairs, Beauty recalled a recent time when she'd found an opportunity to ask about Serafina and had failed to gain answers.

Beauty's opportunity to ask about Serafina had surfaced that morning, when her "handmaidens" helped her dress. Holding onto her bedpost dressed in a loose-fitting lavender silk kirtle and chemise, Beauty had sucked in her stomach and grimaced in pain as Melinda, perched on a gilded stool behind her, held the white ribbon laces of her corset, prepared to pull. The corset, made of pink silk and studded with tiny gemstones, contained real whalebone and as a result was so painful that Beauty had more than once speculated that it might make an effective torture device. This was only amplified by the uncanny amount of strength Melinda's feathers hid. Beauty's mind had wandered to thoughts of home, where her stepmother had often assisted her with her corset. Cinderella, however, had been gentle, and her stays had never been laced as tightly as they were here. The girl often wondered if her handmaidens still could not tell that she was a peasant, and therefore did not need to appear so perfectly thin. All of a sudden, Melinda gave a sharp yank which nearly forced the all of the air out of her lungs. As Beauty's face twisted, and as she tried to ignore the pain, she'd heard the word "Serafina" whispered in the background. Hoping to catch some information about her bedchamber's former tenant, she listened, while trying to maintain a front of disinterest.

"I have all of these beautiful gowns waiting to be worn, and Miss Beauty hardly looks at them!" Vivienne had softly moaned to Jacqueline, thinking that her charge couldn't hear. Beauty, however, could make out every word. "I simply don't understand. Any other girl would jump at the opportunity to don such elegant silks and satins, such soft cashmeres, such luxurious furs as I have. Serafina, as I recall, rejected the lot feeling that they were not ornate enough! Miss Beauty feels that they are too good for someone like her to wear. The gowns all BELONG to her now, why can she not see that?"

"I know," Jacqueline whispered back. "It is the same thing with these beautiful jewels which, as you recall, were rejected by Serafina as well, being considered common." Beauty had been shocked by this. _The necklace with the ruby that was as big as my fist…if I were to sell that ruby alone, I could buy food for my family for five years, along with baking supplies and a new thatched roof and still have a small fortune left over! Who is this Serafina that she could reject something so valuable? If the magical harp and the golden-egg-laying hen that Jack told me he stole from the Land of the Giants before I was born were offered to her, would she reject them? _"The way that Miss Beauty rejects these jewels, I wonder if she must be afraid she would burn to death if she were to touch them!"

"And my capes!" Vivienne moaned. "My shawls and mufflers and suchlike! Serafina would demand almost on pain of death to be wrapped in furs like these. Miss Beauty ignores them, insisting on going outdoors in that rag she arrived in!"

"Now Vivienne, that 'rag' you're referring to appears to hold some sentimental value to our guest. We must respect that." Beauty had smiled gratefully at this. Although no one except for Puss in Boots knew that the shawl had belonged to her mother, or had even been told about Joanna just yet, it was nice to know that the fact that she needed this shawl was respected. "However," Melinda had continued, "I have noticed the difference myself. Just yesterday, I laced Miss Beauty's stays a bit too tightly, wondering what her reaction would be. Serafina would have thrown a fit and possibly even had me sent to the dungeon for trying to suffocate her. I doubt if Miss Beauty even noticed!" Melinda added, grasping another set of strings between her feathers and pulling. Beauty gasped and winced at the sharp pain. So that was why her back had ached a bit more than it usually did yesterday, and why she had felt shorter of breath. Grimacing, she had mentally resolved to keep a better eye on Melinda while her stays were being laced, and to cry out in pain if she attempted this again. The feather duster went on. "I don't think that these differences are any sort of problem, you know. Serafina was horrible, yes, but she's gone now. At least Miss Beauty is kind and thoughtful, and from what I've seen would never hurt us. What should it matter to us if she rejects some of these clothes? Serafina would-"

"Who's Serafina?" Beauty had interrupted.

At this, Beauty could have sworn that she'd seen Vivienne go pale. Jacqueline had suddenly started to vibrate on the vanity table, her metal making an irritating buzz against the painted wood. A faint murmuring arose from the room as Beauty watched, wondering if she was going to receive any response at all to her question. Finally, it was Melinda who broke the silence.

"Umm… Now why would such a lovely young maiden as yourself want to know about Serafina?"

Beauty sighed at Melinda's condescending answer. _I am not a child!_ Pasting a nonchalant smile onto her face, she tried again. "Well, I've simply noticed that she seems to carry a great importance in your lives. You and the others are forever mentioning her; I can hardly walk down the corridor without hearing Serafina's name mentioned, or that of someone named 'Salazar.' The painting in the red parlor- that's of them, isn't it? Who were they, Melinda?" She smiled menacingly at her handmaidens. "I know you're hiding this from me."

"We are hiding NOTHING, Miss Beauty," Melinda had scolded, taking up yet another set of laces. "Vivienne? Jacqueline? Am I right," she'd added, seeming to glance at the hairbrush and armoire.

"Oh, yes. Quite right."

"You needn't know any more about Serafina, Miss Beauty."

"Oh, but I am so curious!" Beauty had begged. "The way you speak of her all the time and you compare me to her makes me feel that she holds great influence over you even today although she doesn't reside here any longer. Perhaps she is bothering you and telling me about her might help! Please tell me more, I want to know who Serafina is."

"Serafina is of no importance, Miss Beauty. Believe me, you do not want to know about her. She is gone now, that's all that matters. Now suck in!" Before Beauty could make any response, Melinda pulled fast and hard on the laces in her feathers. Gasping in pain, Beauty had resolved that someday, she would find out exactly who this "Serafina" was, why she had left the palace and most importantly why none of the servants wished to speak of her. If she was to stay in this palace for the rest of her days, she reasoned, at the very least she ought to know its entire history. Remembering this, Beauty decided that perhaps today, she would make another try at uncovering the story of Serafina.

It still bloomed. A month and a half after she had died and it still bloomed. That was the one thought on Chip the Baker's mind as he sat at the kitchen table in his shop in the lonely evening, staring at the large, nodding rose, still blooming in the window. Beauty's rose. As he gazed, the Baker could not help but think it slightly unfair that the rose still blossomed whereas his daughter never would again. The rose had served its purpose well- every time Chip looked at it, he remembered Beauty's death. However, it was almost unnecessary- he had started to find memories of Beauty almost everywhere he looked. Some nights he would look into Mary's room while she was asleep, the room that Beauty had once shared, only to see his remaining daughter asleep in a bed that looked much too empty without her sister. He would walk outside and see the woods and think that while the woods had given him his favorite child, they had also taken away almost everything he ever loved. Chip had been rummaging through his storage closet the other day and had come across a tiny, white toy sheep. This sheep had been Beauty's favorite toy when she was an infant, and finding it just brought her father even more sorrow at what he'd lost. Although Chip had always shied away from most aspects of parenting in the beginning and Beauty had always cried when he held her, there had always been one way he could make his daughter stop crying and that was by waving the little sheep in front of her. Beauty used to chew on the sheep's head every time it was brought close enough to her face; her mother, when she wasn't too tired, had laughed at this. New tears sprang to Chip's eyes thinking of his first wife. If Joanna were alive, she probably would have mourned their daughter even more deeply than him; although Beauty had often worn her mother out with her incessant cries, the Baker's Wife had been devoted to her child and would have done anything for her. She already had done the impossible to bring her into the world; Chip realized at that moment that it had now been exactly twenty years since the Witch had lifted the spell keeping them childless. Twenty years ago that night, Beauty had been conceived. As much as he loved Cinderella and his three remaining children, Chip could not shake the feeling that he and Joanna should at that moment be safe at home with their beautiful prize. Just the few of them. It hurt the Baker to think that had the giantess never come, this would be exactly what was happening. As much as Joanna had loved Beauty as a baby, she would love her even more now- Beauty had taken after her not just in looks, but in personality; Joanna would have totally empathized with her daughter's adventurous spirit. Chip's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door and a slam as it hit the wall.

"We have no bread," Chip moaned, half expecting to hear the Witch's voice reply "of course you have no bread." It would hardly surprise him now should the Witch who had ruined his life once by cursing his family with barrenness suddenly reappear after twenty years to increase his misery, if it were possible after the death of Beauty. However, when he looked up and saw exactly who had entered his shop, he nearly fell off of his chair in surprise. Black leather hunting boots tromped over Chip's threshold as Raoul lumbered into the room, a dead deer slung over his shoulder and ale on his breath.

"I wasn't in the market for any bread," Raoul boomed jovially, pulling out a chair and taking a seat beside the addled Baker. "Evening, Chip!"

"Good evening, Raoul," Chip grumbled, annoyed that the man would be so rude as to barge into his home uninvited at this time of night. "What brings you here?"

"Simple business, nothing more." Before Chip could ask Raoul what he meant, the young man removed a flask from his vest and threw back his head, gulping the ale. With a mighty belch, he turned back to Chip. "It's a shame, my poor Beauty. Cut from this world so young, so innocent, so… _beautiful_. Such a treasure, a rose lost forever to the jaws of a Beast." He sighed, and clapped Chip on the back as the Baker winced. "Of course, my grief over my lost love can mean nothing compared to yours, being her father."

"Why have you come here? What is it you want?" Chip asked, suspicious. He did not trust Raoul. While Beauty had been alive, the Baker had seen how his favorite daughter had been treated by this brute. He had known that Raoul had always made sure to stop by the bakery when he knew Beauty would be on the premises, in order to make an attempt to woo her. Beauty's disinterest had been obvious, yet Raoul had still relentlessly pursued her, obviously feeling that it was only a matter of time before the girl changed her mind. Chip had never liked the local young men poking about his shop trying to woo Beauty; a typical father, he had always thought that Beauty, even at nineteen, was too young for such advances. Less still had he approved of Raoul's persistence when it was apparent that he was bothering his daughter. _Joanna's_ daughter. Ever since Beauty's death, Raoul had been a less frequent customer due to the loss of his intended. What could he want here now?

"Answers, Chip. Just a few simple answers." He jammed the cork back into the mouth of his flask, smirking. For Raoul was certain that he smelled a rat. When he had first been given the news of Beauty's demise, he had believed what he'd heard. Her family's grief had been too obvious to be denied, aside from which, Beauty had disappeared without a trace. On the surface, the details appeared unquestionable. However, the hunter noticed, quite a few things did not add up here. The idea that Beauty had supposedly been in the woods alone at all had provided his first clue that something was amiss. The entire village knew of Chip the Baker's grief for his late first wife, Joanna. Many villagers did not believe the story that the Witch Giovanna had given Beauty life by lifting a curse on the Baker's house, thinking instead that the midwife had just finally created a fertility potion strong enough to solve whatever the problem was with Joanna's womb; but the giant footprints covering most areas of the woods and, even after the subsequent repairs, some of the village made the story of the giantess attack undeniable. The whole town knew the Baker rarely let Beauty or any of his other children out of his sight because he was afraid a giant would invade and crush them too. It was possible that Beauty could have got up in the night and tried to run off, however this was not probable- knowing Chip, she would probably be caught before she reached the door. The fact that there had been no body at the funeral had also given him to believe that something was not right. There was no creature on Earth that could eat a person in one sitting without leaving some sort of trace. Certainly, Beauty could have been attacked by wolves, but Raoul did not see that as very likely- if that had happened, there would be something left of her: some bones, a few locks of hair, perhaps her shawl, dangling from the creature's mouth. The majority of her body would have been consumed, but the Baker would have had something that was part of his daughter to bury, instead of a bouquet of roses. A bouquet of roses, in fact, that could have come from anywhere- the idea of a Beast in a castle was preposterous! Wild beasts did not live in human dwellings and Raoul had traveled almost all over the woods on his hunting expeditions- surely if there were an abandoned castle somewhere he would have seen it! All this led Raoul to one conclusion: Beauty was not dead. Oh, no- Beauty was very much alive, and in all likelihood she was playing a very intricate game of hard-to-get. Raoul had seen the way Beauty had avoided him when he tried to woo her, and her reaction to his proposal. He had never known a woman not to be utterly smitten by him; Raoul figured that Beauty had shared his feelings but had hidden them, trying to see how far he would go to prove his love. So she had faked her own death and fled, convincing her family to come up with some sort of story to cover her tracks. She was probably staying with Jack and Red Ridinghood, not emerging until Raoul somehow romantically proved his love in some stupid girlish fancy. Or maybe she was staying with relatives- her mother Joanna had had seven younger siblings, and her father had distant family somewhere. All Raoul would need to do would be to find out where she was, and Beauty was as good as his. Of course, he would punish his new wife for her deception, but he would soon forgive her. Beauty would learn to be a proper wife, she'd keep away from the woods and they would live happily thereafter.

"What kind of answers?"

"This Beast that killed our poor Beauty," Raoul began, "you said at her funeral that he lived in a castle, was that it?"

"Yes, a castle." Chip responded, confused.

"Yes. It was a Beast in a castle that cut Beauty in her prime." He laughed darkly. "But where?"

"Excuse me?" Chip could not believe what he was hearing. He couldn't have heard right. Why would Raoul want to know where the Beast was? The Baker supposed he wanted to try to defeat it, or something similarly foolish. Had the man no sense at all? There was not a man alive who could defeat that Beast, Chip was certain. Any attempt to would lead to certain death.

"Where was the monster's little… hideaway?" Raoul flipped his flask from side to side on the table nonchalantly. "I've decided to do away with the creature. It's what it deserves, devouring such a beautiful girl like that over such a stupid thing as a bouquet of roses. I regret what I said at the funeral, Chip. The error wasn't Beauty's. It was the monster's. And while Beauty should have come to me to kill the Beast instead of going off on her own, she only did what any loving daughter would do- throw herself into danger to save her father's life. I'm doing what I should have done in the first place."

"Are you mad?"

"Do you remember where you found this castle, Chip?" Raoul asked, slamming his flask on the table and leaning into the Baker's face. Chip coughed as he inhaled the disgusting scent of Raoul's ale. The late Beauty's suitor, however, watched as the Baker fumbled for an answer, taking a cruel pride in his cleverness. This had been the perfect question to use to crack the Baker. Pretty soon, old Chip would admit that he could not give a location, having fabricated the entire story. It would be then that Raoul would descend upon him and demand to be taken to Beauty's whereabouts. Beauty would realize that playing hard-to-get was foolish, and would agree to become his wife. However, much to his aggravation, Chip did not crack.

"I don't remember," Chip lied. When Raoul glared in response, he shouted, "It was a dark and stormy night! I was unable to see the path itself, never mind where I was. And what should it matter now, anyway? The damage has been done-Beauty's dead now, and nothing is ever going to bring her back. Do you really think that killing the Beast will make any difference?"

"No… it will not," Raoul replied, angry but calm. Perhaps it would be a better tactic to use sympathy to crack Chip. He could make it sound as if he was doing the Baker a favor as opposed to trying to drag the secret of Beauty's whereabouts out of him. "Still, wouldn't it ease the blow, just a bit, to have a bit of revenge? For instance, to see the monster's head hanging on your wall?" That would do it. Chip had practically gone mad with grief after Joanna. If her only child were really dead, Chip would want to see to it that the Beast was slaughtered. However, since she was not, this would certainly drag the truth out. "The head is yours, if you'll just tell me where to find it."

If Chip had been disgusted by Raoul before, it meant nothing to the way he felt now. It was horrible enough that he'd lost his secret favorite to the Beast, and he had reminder enough of the part he'd played in it from the seemingly immortal rose, staring down from his mantle like the ghost of Beauty or Joanna. He did not need or want to look at the head of that Beast every morning. It would be inhuman to think that he would want to look at the thing every day for the rest of his life. To look up at those teeth and imagine them biting through Beauty's bones; those horns piercing Beauty's heart; those cold, dead eyes glaring daggers at Beauty's terrified face as she screamed her last. That would be too painful. No, the rose was reminder enough of his guilt. Besides, the Beast had killed Beauty, and doubtless many others; it would kill her suitor as well. Chip may not have liked Raoul, but the Baker was still a good man. He had always remembered when in a moment of madness he had agreed with the Witch that Jack be sacrificed to the giantess after Joanna was found dead, and had always regretted this. He'd sworn that he'd never knowingly try to send someone to their death again, and he intended to keep that promise, although he despised Raoul. "That would only make things worse! Now, I've told you before, I don't remember!" He snapped, and, with sudden adrenaline, drew Raoul up from his chair. "Now get out of my cottage, it's late! Just go!"

The glare on Raoul's face was deadly. "Very well, Chip." He sneered as he allowed himself to be nudged out the door, jamming his flask into his coat pocket and inwardly cursing the Baker. His plan had failed. As he stumbled out the door, he resolved that this wasn't the end of his search. Beauty had won the support of her family in her girlish endeavors, but there must be someone in the village who would reveal her whereabouts. Raoul would search the village until he found them. "I will not stop looking, even if you will not tell me." He called as he stalked down the road. "I will keep searching until I find that castle!"

And search he did. In the coming weeks, Raoul would search the village for Beauty, but to no avail; his expedition would be fruitless, except for nearly convincing the entire town that he was a lunatic. Letters sent to every known relative of the Baker's produced no results except for a repetition of the news of Beauty's death, and in one case, an expression of surprise that the Baker was even still living, let alone had a marriageable daughter. Eventually, Raoul had to face up to the inevitable fact that Beauty wasn't playing hard-to-get. The Baker was telling the truth. She was gone. After this, Raoul stopped frequenting Chip's shop, much to the Baker's relief. But even the seeming disappearance of his daughter's annoying, unwanted suitor did little to help the Baker's ailing spirits, and the rose still did not die.

As the morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the Royal Palace, a young maiden tripped around the marble floors of the Great Hall, trying to regain her balance on still-unsteady new legs. The maiden's hair, still as green as seafoam after a month under the care of Prince Chandler's servants had been washed and brushed until it shone with a satiny gloss matching that of the gowns she'd inherited from the departed Princess Elise. Instead of the two pink starfish she had arrived with, the girl now wore the upper half of her hair in a loose bun which trailed another stream of green hair down her back; this was held in place by a circle of ruby hairpins. Around her neck was a tiny pink shell attached to a blue ribbon. She wore a beautiful gown of the finest red silk in the kingdom and kidskin slippers of the same shade in order to mask the blood that still flowed from her legs and feet at all hours of the day. Every morning the handmaiden dispatched to Brina would try to convince her to wear a dress of a different color for a change, offering her frocks of every shade of yellow, blue, purple, white- various shades of green had even been suggested to complement her hair. However, Brina had always silently insisted on red. She did this not out of fondness for the color, although she had grown to like its shade, but for the benefit of the Prince who had brought her home. She had grown to love her handsome human more each day as she had gotten better and better acquainted with him. Her heart melted at his kindness- Brina was pleased to note that when called upon to settle peasant disputes, Chandler would always be sure to find a solution that was fair to both sides. He took very good care of his stepmother, Snow White, whom Brina would sometimes accompany on the rare occasions when Chandler could not be with his silent maiden; and he was caring and loyal to all he was close to. She loved the fact that he was not wholly wrapped up in the fact that he was royalty, unlike his father and uncle- Chandler was always telling Brina stories about his other uncle, who was a Baker in the village, whatever a baker was, and his cousins whom he promised to take Brina to meet someday when her legs had further healed. Chandler was witty, brave and polite and never had the mermaid seen him harm anyone intentionally. Brina did not wish to worry such a wonderful, perfect man by letting him see that blood still flowed from her legs and probably would never stop. Similarly, she fought to keep a smile pasted on her face, despite the agonizing pain that relentlessly crept up her legs with every step she took. The pain meant that her life was now his, and she would never let it upset him. Still, however, she sometimes worried about the Witch's payment. Brina had considered simply writing down her entire story on a slip of paper and giving it to the Prince to read; she had been able to tell him her name that way. However, events soon convinced her otherwise: nearly every time she and her Prince were together he would speak to her about the maiden who had saved him and every time he would always rave about her beautiful voice, the only part of the girl that he could recognize. It soon became clear to Brina that although she could write her story, it would be of no use. She wouldn't be able to give him any proof. For the time being, however, she had decided to put such worries aside- thus far, no voice similar to hers had been discovered; if all went well, her Prince would fall in love with her despite her muteness.

Chasing after his silent damsel, Prince Chandler laughed as she kept tripping over her feet. The two of them had decided to have a race down the halls of the palace while the Prince was not needed for any royal duties, and Brina continually insisted on running as fast as she could, although it was obvious that her legs had not thoroughly healed yet. Although she obviously tried to hide it, Chandler sometimes noticed that blood still ran down her legs if she stood or moved for too long. He had asked the Royal Physician about it, and had received no answer- the doctor had never seen any illness or injury like this in his life. Although Brina's walking had improved considerably since he'd found her, her legs had still not healed properly, and the Prince had no idea what he could do to remedy that. The green tone of Brina's hair also remained, no matter how many times it was washed, and she still looked at everything she saw as if it were completely new to her. Once, he had come back from resolving a peasant dispute and had found her repeatedly opening and closing the curtains over one of the windows, a wide smile spreading over her face as if in fascination. That had annoyed the Steward, but Chandler had found it very endearing. Also remaining was Brina's inability to talk, and Chandler had begun to suspect that this was a disability she had been born with as opposed to the result of head trauma. He could see that because of these disabilities, his entire household with the exception of his stepmother looked down on Brina. Many considered her insane, some were worried she might be dangerous, others considered her an embarrassment, and all wanted her thrown out. Chandler hated this; he wished they would try to get to know Brina before they judged her. She didn't seem to be crazy, just confused, and she certainly couldn't help that. Chandler had searched the kingdom far and wide, but nothing had been found about Brina's family, nobody among this kingdom or any neighboring realm was looking for a mute girl with long green hair. He planned to send a fleet of ships out to broaden the search, but found himself dreading it. The Prince had begun to suspect that Brina had no family, and a part of him hoped that nobody ever came to claim her. Although he realized that Brina was not a pet to be kept for himself, he had never been so happy as when he had been in charge of this strange, silent girl. He had grown to love her as one loves a sweet child or a beloved little sister; he sometimes called her his "mute foundling and she had become his whole life. He could not imagine life without her. Smiling, he chased after her, finally catching her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

Around the Prince and the silent maiden, a host of castle servants cleaned the Great Hall, staring at the two of them and wondering what on Earth had possessed Chandler to take a mistress like this one. The Royal Steward stood next to the railing of the hall's great staircase, overseeing the servants in their work. Sometimes his eye would dart over to Brina and he would sigh, wondering why Chandler had not yet realized that the palace was no place for peasants like this. Brina's chambermaid stalked downstairs carrying a pile of bloodied red dresses and stockings to be washed and wondering how much longer it would take for Brina's legs to heal so the washmaids would no longer spend all hours trying to wrestle dried blood from red silk, and why she still would not speak, no matter how she was cajoled to. A manservant scrubbed the floors, looking up every so often to gander at Brina's svelte figure, feeling that in that respect, the Prince had found himself a satisfactory mistress, but why one so strange? Another manservant lit the torches lining the walls, noticing a spot of blood on Brina's skirt and wondering why the Prince did not seem to care. Two young maids dusted the banister, every now and then jealously eyeing Brina's dresses and shoes and wondering if, perhaps, the Prince would pay any attention to them if they were to suddenly lose all powers of speech. All of their minds were focused on a single thought: how could Prince Chandler be so blind? This "Brina," if she wasn't some sort of demon, was a lunatic, and dangerous. Even if that were not the case, she was obviously sick in many ways, what with the strange bleeding from her legs and the green hair- chances were she was carrying some sort of plague! What if this "Brina" managed to get the entire kingdom infected? Or perhaps she was a spy from an enemy kingdom. That idea seemed very plausible to the servants- a mute girl would be invaluable in missions of espionage because she wouldn't be able to reveal the enemy's plans. Perhaps she wasn't even really mute, being instead a very good actress. The girl's green hair gave them yet another possibility for her business in the kingdom- perhaps Brina was a witch! A Witch had raised Chandler's mother, Rapunzel; and it had been said that she'd considered Prince Victor a thief for rescuing her from the tower. That Witch had regained her youth through the intervention of Chandler's Uncle, a village Baker- it wasn't entirely impossible that that Witch had given birth to another daughter and that she had been sent for revenge on the royal family. Whatever Brina was hiding, there must be something under that innocent mask of hers, and the staff wished that Chandler would remove it before they found out what it was. What could have even possessed him to bring her home in the first place?

"**Now what can he want with a woman like her?**" The Steward sang to the chambermaid dispatched to Brina's care, smacking his hand to his forehead.

"**Green-haired and silent as the grave.**" The Chambermaid agreed, staring at the couple as Chandler laughed and Brina smiled that bewitching smile of hers. That smile too unnaturally large to be quite human. Could the Prince not see that something was wrong?

"**He could have the world, but takes this 'Brina?'**" The Torch-Lighter added, nearly burning himself in his confusion. He had thought Prince Victor was mad for marrying Rapunzel, twins or no twins, when the blonde woman had begun to lose her wits; but Brina was another thing altogether.

"**Can our kingdom be saved?**" A maid wondered as she was shooed back to her work by the Steward.

"**Look how she holds him and touches and attends him!" **The other maid fumed jealously as she watched Brina run her hands up and down Chandler's back.

"**It's my belief the Prince is not well…" **The manservant mopping the floors burst in, glancing over at the shapely legs of the maids dusting the banister and earning himself a glare from Brina's chambermaid as they all turned to watch Brina fumbling in the pocket hidden through a slit in her skirt for something.

"**And she has him in a spell…"**

As Chandler stared at Brina, wondering what the silent girl could be up to, she finally drew something out of her pocket. A thin cord of wire hung from her hand, attached to what looked like a shell from the ocean. A closer look told Chandler that this was one of the starfish that had been attached to Brina's hair when she'd found him. Blushing, she offered it to him. _It's a charm,_ her eyes seemed to say. _For good luck on your next voyage. _During her time at the castle, Brina had heard the servants talking, and through eavesdropping had found out that Chandler went sailing for adventure quite frequently, and might take off on another expedition sometime in the next year. Brina knew that if anything should happen to him this time, he was as good as lost, for she would not be able to return to the ocean. It was known to the merpeople however, that to carry a starfish brings good luck. Knowing this, she'd borrowed some wire from a castle servant and strung one of her starfish on it. Chandler, from his experience at sea, knew what the charm meant and took it from Brina, kissing her head in response.

"You are my charm. I've no idea how I've lived without you, my mute little Brina."

Brina's eyes smiled. _I will never leave you, Chandler._ The servants groaned as the two of them looked into each other's eyes, smiling shyly at one another.

"**Now what do you make of a stranger like her?" **The manservant scrubbing the floors glanced up at the chambermaid, looking almost up her skirts as he wondered and grinning at what he saw.

"**Putting on airs, without a doubt!" **The chambermaid replied, smacking him upside the head

"**When he's found that voice and does not need her-" **The Steward interrupted.

"**How soon he'll throw her out!" **They all nodded in agreement, returning to the task at hand. The voice would do it. The voice would save them all. Once Chandler found the voice of that strange woman who had rescued him, he would rid the castle of Brina and everything would go back to the way it should be. The voice, while most likely nonexistent, carried the answer to all their prayers of Brina leaving. As Brina raced off down the hall again, Chandler dashing after her, they were suddenly interrupted by a loud, authoritative call.

"Chandler!"

Grasping Brina, Chandler turned around. The smile on his face disappeared when he saw exactly who had addressed him. Standing in front of him, in a royal blue suit decorated all over with golden medallions and wearing a look of bitterest disdain, was his Uncle, Prince Robert, the former husband of Cinderella and the heir to the kingdom's throne. His chestnut hair shone in the light of the torches and a disapproving glimmer emanated from his grey eyes as he glowered at the couple. Brina shrunk and backed away, afraid of him as she had been since she was brought to the castle. Chandler, meanwhile grudgingly bowed.

"Uncle."

"Chandler, I ask that you follow me into the next room. I have some important matters to discuss."

Chandler inwardly groaned. No doubt he was going to be forced to listen to another lecture on how it was time he found a woman suitable for marriage from a man who had broken the hearts of thousands of innocent women. If not that, then his Uncle was probably passing a new, probably hypocritical law for which he sought a second opinion on the wording of and could not find his brother. Or perhaps he had tried to solve a peasant dispute and had failed to satisfy one or both parties, leaving the injured to demand Chandler's assistance. He turned to Brina. "I will return soon," he whispered as she smiled back. His mind remaining with the silent maiden, he followed his Uncle into the next room; a throne room used to resolve the disputes of peasants, but which was empty this morning. Uncle and Nephew faced each other solemnly.

"You wished to speak with me, Uncle?"

Prince Robert's face was firm, his glare scornful. "Chandler, as your uncle and future sovereign, I feel it best to tell you that you must rid our castle of your Brina, and quickly."

"No. I will not." Chandler simply replied. "I have no wish to contradict my future sovereign, much less my family, but this is unjust. You know as well as I do she's done nothing wrong."

"She is a disgrace to our family!" Prince Robert snapped. "Chandler, you do not understand now, but someday you may rule this kingdom, and when that day comes you will need to understand that it is the duty of a royal to maintain a certain image. We are above the commoners, and must appear so. You were raised to be charming, Chandler, not sincere. We'll say no more about it. You must throw her out."

"I am sorry; Uncle, but I will _not_ throw her out. I cannot: I swore I would care for her until her legs heal or until her family is found, and I will not break that promise." Chandler was annoyed at his Uncle's hypocrisy, and, he realized, at the fact that he dared insult Brina. "Besides, there have been women residing in this castle that were not princesses- my own mother was born the daughter of a baker! The Witch was not her real mother. And," he added, unable to stop the devilish smile that was beginning to appear on his face, "Aunt Cinderella was a dishmaid when you fell in love with her."

"_Cinderella_" Prince Robert cut in, "was born of a high pedigree; her father was a very rich man. And as for your mother, well, your father was taken in by the rich state of her tower. He had no way of knowing the true state of affairs. Your Brina has neither, and we have no way of knowing where she came from, who her family is. She could be a beggar, or a vagrant; she may even be a convict. If word gets out that there is a vagrant living under our roof, we will never again command the same respect. Your boyish infatuation with her has gone too far!" He fumed "**How long do you think you'll be playing this game?**" He sang.

"This is no game!" Chandler replied indignantly.

"**Surely you can't believe it's real.**"

"Brina is my friend! With all due respect, Uncle, I am a man now, and as such am free to associate with whom I choose. "

"**You are not the first to want a peasant."** As Prince Robert mentioned this, he found himself transported in his mind back to the night when the giantess attacked, nineteen years ago. Back to Joanna. Now she had been a peasant worth wanting. He had seen her before, of course, at his wedding to Cinderella; however at that time he had been too blinded by lust for his new bride to take any notice of the pregnant Baker's Wife dancing with her husband and a group of other townspeople. Similarly, he had, so Cinderella had told him, helped allow for the fetus's conception by forcing the Steward to give the couple the slipper, but then Joanna had only been some random peasant woman in his eyes. However, all of that changed the night the giantess attacked. When he saw her in the woods, apparently looking for something, he had been immediately smitten by her attractive figure and her rustic beauty. Her bravery had been what had really attracted Prince Robert; never in all his life had he seen a woman who would go off into the woods alone in search of a giant, and this without her husband's permission! When he'd heard that, the Prince had known that he must have her, and to Hell with Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. He must have one night with Joanna, and that one was as good as any, with the chance that any moment, the giant could arrive on the scene and crush them both. Oh, it hadn't been easy convincing her to go along with it, at first. Joanna had played the dutiful housewife, telling him that his advances were not rightand reminding him that he had a princess and she a Baker. That baby daughter she'd given birth to, "Grace" or "Chastity" or whatever his brother had said she'd called it had likely also been on her mind at the time. However, Robert had been raised to be charming, and the Baker's Wife soon fell victim to his princely wiles despite herself. Thoughts of husband and child had been scattered to the wind as Joanna allowed herself to be carried deep into the woods for a "moment" that would prove to be bittersweet, lovely, and sad at once.** "I, too, know their…**_**appeal**_**."** He could still feel her, warm in his embrace, her kisses returning his, the smell of flour and cinnamon that hung about her like perfume as he breathed it in. Although she had been nothing but the wife of a Baker, never had a woman given him so much to remember. Joanna was the only one of his mistresses he had ever kept a promise to: nearly twenty years had passed since the giantess attack, and he had never forgotten how brave Joanna had been to be alone in the woods, nor how alive she'd made him feel. Since then, multiple women with status and wealth that dwarfed Joanna's: ladies of court, duchesses, countesses, marquises, princesses all had shared his bed. He had sampled their forbidden fruit and given them nights to be remembered, and had probably fathered quite a few illegitimate children in the process. Yet none of these women had excited him or _impressed_ him as much as this fiery peasant had. He had not heard of her since the giantess attack; he sometimes wondered if she was still alive , perhaps he could find her in the woods again… Prince Robert mentally shook himself, annoyed at his sudden weakness. He had wanted a peasant, yes, and he had gotten her. But he would certainly never bring Joanna into the palace where people could see her. As a Prince, he was raised to be charming, not sincere. He did not drag out his fling with Joanna as Chandler appeared to be doing with this "Brina", nor did he bring it into the castle, thereby embarrassing his own name and that of the royal family. If Chandler didn't wake up to what he was doing, Robert's entire reputation as a ruler would be at stake. The fact that a mute vagrant with green hair had been allowed in the palace was enough to cause their prestige to decline to a new low. **"But you're a royal son! You'll do what must be done no matter what you feel."**

With that, Prince Robert turned on his heel and left the room. Chandler glared after his disappearing back and walked out the door himself, only to find Brina leaning against the gilded door jamb, her eyes swollen in sadness. Chandler sighed. She'd heard. Inwardly cursing his uncle, Chandler took Brina in his arms. "Don't listen to a word he says," he whispered, holding her close. "He is probably the biggest hypocrite in the kingdom- I pity our subjects when he inherits the throne! I promise, I'm not going to throw you out, no matter what happens. You are staying right here until you recover and nothing is going to change that. I give you my word as a Prince; your station is safe for as long as you need to be here." Brina smiled; Chandler was rendered momentarily breathless. Her smile was so beautiful. How anyone could possibly dislike her he did not know- that smile bespoke nothing but kindness and the desire to be accepted and loved. He did not know why, but that smile attracted him more than anything he had ever seen. "Tell you what," he suggested, "You haven't seen the armory yet, have you? How would you like it if I were to show it to you?" Chandler already knew that Brina would like this; she was always so excited to visit new parts of the castle. As he expected, she nodded enthusiastically. Her sadness melting away in excitement, Brina danced off in the direction of the doors as Chandler followed, laughing to himself at her exuberance. As they dashed to the armory, the servants' eyes followed them again.

"**I know what he sees in a stranger like her.**" The torch lighter announced.

"**Probably makes him rise like yeast**." Continued the manservant scrubbing the floors as he made a lewd gesture at one of the maids.

"**Well the girl may think she's very clever…**" The two maids speculated, having stopped dusting the banister to listen.

"**The Prince may keep her here forever…**" The Steward and the Chambermaid added, nodding at them, implying that while they agreed, the maids were to focus on the task at hand.

"**But I can tell you this- they'll never stand before a priest!**" The entire palace staff agreed, returning to going about their business and all the while praying that Prince Chandler come to his senses, and quickly. That soon, he would realize that the mute girl was up to no good, if not a raving lunatic, and hopefully decide to get rid of her. Perhaps he would follow his Steward's original advice- as he should have a month ago- and have her taken to hospital, seeing as she appeared to have no family. However, it seemed as if only the mysterious- and nonexistent- voice of the woman who had supposedly saved his life would divert his affections from the green-haired, silent stranger. Although they all knew it to be impossible, the palace staff offered a joint prayer to the heavens that that voice would appear to Chandler and soon, if only so that they would be rid of the strange silent girl for good.

Two weeks later, night had fallen on the Beast's castle. After taking her supper in the kitchen with the household objects, Beauty hurried up the seemingly endless flight of stairs, back to the safety of her room. Preceding her was Catalin, who, dagger drawn, was ready to defend Beauty against the Beast if necessary. So far, however, Beauty's avoidance had worked largely without exception. Catalin could not help but feel slightly grateful for this. Although she had been practicing her hunting techniques for almost every waking moment since their arrival at the castle, whenever she confronted the Beast, he would always overpower her. It seemed no matter how many hours she spent practicing her fencing, no matter how many mice she caught or trees she stripped of bark her sword would never be fast enough, her pounce never quick enough and her claws never sharp enough to give the monster so much as a flesh wound, never mind the debilitating injury that would be necessary to provide Beauty greater safety and possibly allow an escape. Catalin fumed. It wasn't as if she hadn't faced great challenges before and come out on top. The last time she had gotten involved in a human's affairs, she had had to hunt a wide variety of game, lie to royalty multiple times and convince entire villages to follow suit; take archery challenges and fence with the local merchants in wagers to obtain fine clothing and accessories for the human, and outwit a monstrous, powerful ogre who had taken over a kingdom by convincing him to turn into a mouse, which she caught and ate. _This Beast should be an easy target after facing down all those obstacles. Really, he's just a rat. A large, strong rat with sharp teeth and horns, yes, but nonetheless a rat. _Perhaps for once in her nine lives, she should just give up. Give up, run off, and seek glory elsewhere; perhaps that was a better idea than staying here. More than once, the idea of just making her escape some night had crossed her mind. After all, she didn't belong to Beauty. There was nothing tying her to the peasant girl- if she wanted to, Catalin could just leave her flat to fend for herself. Catalin wanted her freedom back so badly she could taste it. At this point, only the thought of being eaten and having the murder of Beauty's family and debilitating injury to Beauty herself on her conscience kept Puss in Boots from trying to make a break for it.

Beauty rushed up the stairs, moving faster and faster in her desperation to get back to the safety of her room. _Only a few floors more_, she thought, _and I'm out of danger. Only a few floors more and I'm hidden from the Beast_. Before now, she'd never thought that anyone could possibly be worse than Raoul, the giantess who killed her mother, or the Witch who gave her life. Now, however, Beauty knew that she would rather face all three of them together than the Beast. What could they do to her that the creature hadn't already done? Marrying Raoul would have landed her in its own sort of prison; Beauty would probably never have children now that she was stuck in the castle, so what would it matter if the Witch decided to renew the spell on her; the giant had already robbed her of her family by stepping on Joanna, if she were to step on Beauty too, in all honesty, death would be a relief. Not to mention, the Beast was capable of much more- the Beast, if he wanted to, could seriously maim her, leaving her within an inch of her life to suffer permanent damage. It was really for the best that she avoid him, best not to tempt her fate. What convinced her even more of this was the fact that over the month, Catalin had not been able to protect her from the Beast. Not for the first time, Beauty wondered if her traveling companion had lied to her, or overestimated herself. It frightened her and angered her, but she felt helpless in the face of her new life. Beauty's thoughts were interrupted as she heard a loud clicking noise on the stairs. The Beast! Gasping, she pressed herself against the wall, not daring to breathe as the monster passed her by, rushing down the stairs at top speed. She didn't dare to breathe, hoping that he would leave her alone. She had only rarely seen him in the entire time she'd been in the castle, and every time he had appeared to threaten her. Luckily, this time, the Beast passed Beauty by without incident, allowing her to stew in her memories of the past two months as she slowly peeled herself off the wall. Noticing her, but not caring enough to attack the peasant girl, the Beast began to disappear down the staircase.

As she watched the Beast disappear, something within Beauty suddenly snapped. This was unfair. She had done no wrong against this monster; her supposed crime had been to ask her father for a bouquet of roses when he'd offered the entire family gifts of their choosing. Never had she stated that the bouquet of flowers had to be stolen from a Beast's garden; Beauty was not her grandmother, she would never attempt to take what she knew was not hers. All she had wanted was a tiny, simple gift that ordinary girls would want, knowing that her father would never grant her real desire. Really, she'd just wanted to make him happy. And what happened? She had been compelled to sever all ties with her family and give up her freedom to a Beast who terrified her so that she could hardly leave her room; she had been forced to stay in this situation on pain of severe injury and the death of her loved ones. This was not her fault, Beauty decided, and no more would she simply stand aside and take it. Something had to give. She did not know where this sudden rush of bravery had come from, but she did know that she'd had her fill of false imprisonment and was not going to stand for it any longer. Just before the Beast rounded the next bend in the stairwell, Beauty shouted out to him. "It was only a few stupid rose blossoms!"

As fast as lightening, the Beast turned, growling, to face her. "What did you just say, Wench?" His teeth dripped saliva onto the ground, ready for the kill and his horns appeared sharper than ever in the moonlight as he approached his prisoner. Beauty felt a cold shiver rush down her back as she gasped in fear. Then, as quick as it came, her fear vanished as she remembered her case. No. She was not going to stand for this treatment any longer.

"You heard me!"

"Beauty, no!" Catalin whispered, sensing danger, but was shoved aside by the Beast's tail.

"You have many other roses, more roses than I've ever seen in my life! Your grounds are covered with them! How you could be so selfish as to take a prisoner for a few blossoms-"

"He stole them from me!" The Beast roared. "So I should have just let him take them and done nothing, is that what you're saying, Wench? That you condone theft? Perhaps you'd change your tune if I were to steal from you instead!" He reached out a paw as if to slash her across the face, but Catalin was ready for him. With a furious hiss, she lunged at him, dagger drawn, ready to slice him to bits if he threatened the peasant girl. However, the Beast was faster. Whipping around before she could make the first stab, he swooped down to grasp her as the cat pounced for his back. The Beast reared back up, causing Catalin to become entangled in his horns. She began to desperately slash at them with her dagger, trying to drive the Beast away from Beauty, but the monster was not fazed and continued to loom over the human maiden.

"He didn't know they meant this much to you!" Beauty screamed. "Had he known, he would have gladly paid you anything you asked for them!"

"But he did pay, Filth!" The Beast snapped, flinging Catalin off his head and backwards down the stairs. The cat landed on her feet and raced back, but was held back by his tail again. "Have you forgotten? YOU are his payment, you disgusting, ungrateful wench, and you are lucky I let you live after his theft!"

"What reason would you have had to kill me in the first place?" At this point, Beauty's blood was on fire. _I've suffered in silence for too long. I am not going to let him by so easily anymore._ "As punishment for an honest mistake? Do you honestly feel that the death of an innocent person is minimal enough to compensate for a handful of flowers? This may come to you as a surprise, but daughters are not a form of currency! I'm not a material to be traded, and although I stay for my father, I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way! This isn't just, and I'm not going to stand for it! Go on, build higher walls, change every lock, I don't care. Someday, however long it takes, you will have what you deserve, you monster! Someday, we will-" Beauty gasped as the Beast lunged onto her, claws unsheathed.

"I would be careful if I were you," the Beast snarled, pushing Beauty up against the wall. "With how I speak to my betters, Peasant Bitch. I have already been generous enough not only to spare your life, but to feed and clothe you and provide you with servants to do your bidding, as well as free run of my castle." Beauty gasped as he flicked out one of his claws and pressed it into her cheek. "It would be a shame to have to ruin that beautiful face of yours," he growled. The smell of a freshly-killed deer hung strong on his breath, making Beauty gag as she felt the blood begin to trickle down the side of her face. Shivering, she shrank back as the Beast smirked in satisfaction. Scratching her roughly on the arm, he flung her to the floor and rushed past her. As he disappeared, Catalin arched her back and uttered her most fearful hiss at him. Unperturbed, the Beast vanished into the distance. Catalin sighed, sheathing her dagger and flattening her fur to its normal smoothness. _I can kill a mouse in less than five seconds. I am an accomplished swordswoman. I've mastered any number of weapons, I've faced a fully-grown dragon, and I have defeated the most monstrous and powerful ogre imaginable singlehandedly. What sort of creature is this Beast if I cannot even defend one peasant girl from him? I suppose I haven't been practicing hard enough- I shall have to intensify my training if I wish to provide any real protection to this peasant girl. If I'm never to fight in battle, I must at least be able to do this. _With these thoughts in her mind, she hurried over to Beauty, offering her paw to the fallen maiden.

"Are you all right?"

Beauty, breathing heavily, accepted the paw and pulled herself to her feet. "We must get out of here."

Catalin shook her head. "Believe me, Beauty, my desire to escape is equal to yours, but I don't think it would be wise to risk anything tonight."

Beauty stared at the cat as if she were mad. "Puss in Boots, we are being kept captive for no good reason. It isn't fair that because my father made one tiny, inconsequential mistake we should have to stay trapped here for the rest of our days. The Beast has no just cause to imprison us like this, and we have no reason to stay! I have a right to return home and I want to return home. Melinda, Ludwig, and the others have all been very kind and I've wanted for nothing, but Puss in Boots, I miss my family! I want to be home with them. To think I complained of a life without adventure or excitement" Catalin nodded, gazing at her sympathetically. Personally, the cat didn't miss her own family very much; they had never gotten along well and she had been rather glad to leave them over a year ago on her quest for heroism. However, she could imagine how Beauty, who obviously loved her father very much, otherwise they wouldn't be in this predicament, must feel about being permanently separated from hers.

"I understand, I promise you. But you heard what the Beast said when you first arrived here. If you try to escape and he catches you, he will murder your family, and you would probably sustain permanent damage." She patted her dagger. "I have trained as a swordswoman for years, Beauty, yet even I can't guarantee that I would be able to defend you if we were caught. Besides, with those injuries? I wouldn't advise it. The wolves in these woods can smell blood. Through their intuition, they can always tell when a traveler is weakened; believe me, I know. I've had more experience with the woods in the past year than you have in your whole life. If you went into the woods in your state, you'd never return home alive." Catalin gave Beauty a gentle nudge up the stairs. "Come, let's continue. You need to rest, and perhaps find someone who can tend to that scratch." Resigned, Beauty continued her journey up the stairs. She sighed.

"Perhaps you're right. But mark my words, Puss in Boots, I _will_ escape from here someday. I cannot stay here as a false prisoner."

Puss in Boots nodded as more torches sprang to life, lighting their way up the stairs. "I understand. And I promise you, someday I will be able to defeat that Beast as I have every other enemy that's come my way. Perhaps then we shall go free. Until that time, however, I would suggest you continue to keep a low profile."

Hidden somewhere at the bottom of the staircase, the Beast listened as the soft _thumps_ of Beauty's feet and Catalin's paws disappeared into the distance. As the Peasant Girl seemingly vanished from existence once more, as she had for almost the entire time she'd lived in the castle, the Beast wondered if perhaps, he had acted rashly. Again, he seemed to feel Beauty's pain as he wondered if maybe he should not have scratched her. Perhaps he should have heard her out and listened to her side of the story, she might have had a decent point behind her outburst. Had he been in the wrong this whole time, when he was sure that he was only acting within his rights? She was, after all, nothing more than a lowly peasant; surely she merited no concessions. Yet why did the roses mean so much to him? Every time he passed through his gardens and looked upon the blossoms, he remembered the Witch's spell and what it had done to him. For this, he hated the roses that grew on his grounds. Why had he become so protective of them, then, when Beauty's father had stolen a few blossoms? Perhaps it had been simply because they belonged to him. Although it had been his original intent to go out into the woods to make tonight's kill, the alien feeling led the Beast elsewhere. As soon as he was certain that the girl and her cat had gone, he raced up the steps faster than the torches could light his way, higher and higher, past the floor where Beauty slept until finally he reached a wooden door, black from age and ornamented all over with silver, at the very top. Opening this door, the Beast bounded into a high tower room, which was sparsely furnished and its floor blanketed with the bones of all the prey he had captured over the years. The moon, glaring through the room's one large window in its ceiling, glinted off of the chunks of sapphire in the bricks comprising its walls. Unlike most of the castle, there were no empty spaces formerly occupied by pictures or decorations; this room had gone vastly unnoticed when the castle was in its glory days. Walking into the darkest corner of the room, the Beast picked up a beautiful mirror bearing a handle of ivory entwined with golden vines and a platinum frame. A rosebud made of a ruby set between two emeralds gleamed demoniacally at the Beast, as its diamond surface glittered in the pale moonlight. The Beast had rarely used the Witch's mirror in the many years since his parents had abandoned it with him, not wanting to carry it for the reminder of how their shame began. Now, although he hated the mirror as he did the roses, he held it to his face, wincing at his horrific reflection. "SHOW ME BEAUTY," he commanded. Instantly, the mirror illuminated itself to reveal his beautiful captive. Up in her room, Beauty knelt on the floor, leaning against the ivory bed and wincing in pain as a small grey towel pressed a hot, stinging solution onto the bleeding wound on her arm. Melinda, who was dusting off the divan which Catalin had covered in shed fur, seemed to glance sympathetically at Beauty.

"You're very lucky." She whispered, jumping down and shuffling over to the girl. "Your scratches are shallow, so they will not scar. In a few days, the pain will go away and you will look as you did before. Compared to a few other incidents that have occurred here, you've emerged unscathed." She took on a strange, melancholy tone as she said this, and Beauty could not help wondering what the feather duster had been through. Perhaps her fears had been right! Maybe the Beast actually had killed Serafina!

"Has he inflicted worse injuries on others, then?"

"Oh, he's done much worse, Miss Beauty. See this scratch mark on the back of my handle?" With a loud _swish_ the feather duster turned around to reveal a jagged, tarnished line cutting down the gold to where the feathers began. The scar cut viciously into Melinda's handle. Beauty winced.

"He did that to you?"

Melinda nodded her handle grimly, making an eerie shuffling sound against the tiles. "And this happened many years ago, when His Highness was only a young pup. Since then, the destruction he is capable of has increased greatly." Beauty looked down at the grey towel, who had left her arm to jump back into the poultice at her side, making ready to tend to her face. The towel seemed to look up at her with an expression of the utmost sadness as she gestured with her corner to a large tear going halfway up her fabric. Melinda went on. "Vivenne's back has been scratched so that there is hardly any paint left, and I'm sure you've noticed her knobs and hinges are covered in bite marks. Some of the dishes have been all but shattered in His Highness's rages. If you had ever entered some of the other rooms in this castle besides your bedchamber and the kitchen, you would have noticed some of the horrible damage done to the furniture." As Melinda spoke, she wondered why she was telling the girl these things. She had convinced the others in the Beast's employ never to let Beauty know what had occurred here before the Beast's transformation, however curious she might become. It had been agreed that the Baker's daughter could never find out about the curse; most likely she would not believe the story, and if by some chance she did, she might feel pressured to force herself to fall in love with the Beast for their sakes. From what Melinda knew of Beauty, she was a girl of pure heart, and if she was willing to sacrifice her freedom for her father's life, it stood to reason that she might make further sacrifices of that sort for the freedom of her newfound friends. Melinda was not about to let that happen. Beauty had come to the castle of her own free will, and whatever her future held should be of her will too.

Beauty nodded, wincing as the towel pressed into her face, the stinging sensation returning once more. Considering the scratched, dented state of the kitchen table alone she could imagine how decrepit some of the other furnishings-and other servants whom she had yet to meet-must look. Hearing this, Beauty felt a pang of guilt rush through her. It was terrible, what these poor objects had been through, and then for them not only to remain loyal to their captor but to go out of their way to serve him and his prisoners- it was more than should reasonably be expected of them. Although they were not people, Beauty had come to accept that they were still living things, and it made her blood boil to think that they had been abused so. _They are so good_, Beauty thought, _and they do not deserve to be treated this way. The Beast is no more fit for these servants' care than I, a Baker's daughter. They cannot stay here, they deserve better. _"How horrible! Can nothing be done?"

Sadly, Melinda shifted herself back and forth, indicating a negative response. "No. I am afraid that's simply our lot in life, Miss Beauty. There's no getting around it. It's the way things are, unfortunately."

"But that's unfair!" Beauty cried, jumping to her feet and nearly causing the towel to fall off of her face. "Nobody deserves to be abused that way, it's simply not right! There must be some way to stop this. Perhaps you could attempt to escape!"

Melinda sighed. "Miss Beauty, when you have been here as long as I have, you will accept the fact that things cannot change. Trying to escape would be pointless. Given our form, we would more than likely find ourselves up for sale at a merchant's stand, separated forever and probably trading one abusive master for another in the end. Besides," she added, stiffening herself, "none of us will ever leave our Sovereign. As long as he may need us, we are bound to remain here and serve him. If we should suffer some damage in the process well then, so be it, I suppose."Sighing, Melinda resumed her usual commanding tone. "That will be enough, Colleen. Now please return to the kitchen, there is much work to be done." Nodding, the towel slid down Beauty's arm and inched her way over the silver tiles of the floor as the girl watched, resolving to find some thread and stitch her back together the next day. Shaking herself, Melinda grasped a linen bandage that had been lying next to the poultice between her feathers. Shuffling onto Beauty's lap, she began to tie the fabric tightly around her arm as the girl winced again. "Worry not about us, Miss Beauty, but about yourself. Continue to stay out of His Highness's path and attempt under all circumstances not to anger him and with luck you will not be harmed again."

The alien feeling bubbled even harder in the Beast's stomach, making him feel strangely nauseous. With a sigh, he turned the mirror over gently, not wanting to see any more. Not knowing quite why, the Beast found himself wondering if perhaps he had gone a bit too far in physically harming the peasant girl. He felt the pain of the scratch on Beauty's arm in his own as he wondered if maybe he could have found an alternative means of expressing his point of view without using his claws. Also, seeing and hearing of the state of his servants had cut through his tough exterior to his heart as he wondered how he had not noticed that he was abusing his own entourage so horribly. Looking back through his memories, he tried to discern when he had first decided that it was his right to treat his servants so. Perhaps it had been the time when he was about three years old and witnessed Serafina slapping Jacqueline for accidentally bringing her the wrong necklace. Or perhaps it had occurred when he had been walking through the palace a few months later and had seen Salazar kicking a manservant who had been scrubbing the floors so that his head fell into his bucket because the man did not scrub fast enough. His parents had always told him that his servants were beneath him, and therefore his word was law. That he and his family, as royals, were to be obeyed and feared, and that any insult or failure to comply with their demands was just cause for punishment, the sort of which was naturally up to their jurisdiction. The peasant girl, of course, would fall into the same category. Yet somewhere deep inside himself, the Beast wondered if perhaps he had been unjust. Perhaps Beauty had had a point in what she told him- he had, after all, taken her from her family for a theft that on reflection had not even been hers. And he had, as she'd said, many roses remaining in the garden. Perhaps it was slightly plausible that he could have expressed his point of view without using his claws. Growling, he quickly shrugged this off. The peasant girl was beneath him, and he had already shown her more than enough mercy already. He had not only spared her life, but he'd provided her with food and clothing and had even given her his mother's bedchamber as her lodgings! The just thing to do would have been to kill her the moment she'd arrived at his door, as he had implied to her father. Yes, Beauty had deserved all of the pain he'd caused her, exactly as his servants deserved every scratch or dent given to them. Snarling and speculating as to why he had suddenly begun to feel these strange twinges of guilt ever since Beauty came into his life, he dashed down the stairs and out into the night, not to return until the sun rose once more.

A few hours later, midnight had arrived at the Beast's castle. Somewhere in the palace's depths, Catalin was practicing her fencing as the suits of armor drank themselves into their nightly stupor. As Beauty lay awake in bed, she could hear the whispers of the talking objects filling the room. Every so often, the door would creak open and an irritating plinking, clunking, scraping or rubbing noise would fill the room, telling Beauty that a new group of objects had entered. Trying to fall asleep, she listened to the dialogue rotating between the castle servants.

"Pahr Mees Bayutya!" A voice that could only be recognized as Ludwig's gasped. "Ees shay ahll raight?"

Melinda's voice sighed. "She will be. Thank goodness it was only a scratch on her arm and face this time."

"I know," Beauty could hear Jacqueline fuming. "His Highness is capable of much worse than that. I've been thrown right into a wall more than once, I'll tell you that much. If she crosses him again, Miss Beauty might not be so lucky. His Highness really must learn to control his temper around a lady such as Miss Beauty."

"It's true." Melinda's voice responded, as a light shuffling arose which sounded as if the duster were nodding her handle in agreement. "It really isn't fair that she had to suffer such treatment at the hands of His Highness. She's done nothing wrong. Unfortunately, poor Miss Beauty is nothing more than a Baker's daughter. Many of us servants were born into a higher station than she was. As horrible as it is to say something like this of such a kind person, given her status quo Miss Beauty should consider herself lucky." Various exclamations of protest arose at this, which Melinda quickly interrupted. "I am not trying to insinuate that this is right, I'm only saying that this is the way his Highness normally behaves, and he is being quite merciful in sparing her life and giving her fine lodgings. Salazar and Serafina would have thrown her in the dungeon for talk such as this, if she had even received treatment a fraction as merciful as this at all!" _Serafina! _Beauty stiffened herself and attempted to slow her breathing, punctuating this with a light snore every so often. _Perhaps, seeing as they think I'm asleep, they might let slip a bit more information._

Unfortunately for Beauty, the only response came from the deep voice of the Royal Steward. "Quite right, Melinda. If it had been Serafina the roses were stolen from, no doubt Miss Beauty and her entire family would have been chained to the dungeon wall watching her father's torture and execution long ago!"

"Still," Vivienne's voice chimed in, "It is wrong that Miss Beauty must suffer through this. She hasn't done a thing to deserve it-"

"Neither have we!" Jacqueline cut in.

"-But Miss Beauty… she is of a much more delicate state than we are. She can feel pain much more intensely than ourselves, and is more easily injured. His Highness must be more careful with her, she came here of her own free will and therefore…"

Beauty never heard the rest of the sentence before sleep claimed her. The whispers of the talking objects faded into nothingness as Beauty once again found herself floating on the misty fog of the previous nights. Once more the Prince revealed himself, shining in his golden suit, through the haze. He smiled at Beauty, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Marry me, Beauty." He stated, his adoration gleaming in his diamond eyes. "Marry me."

Beauty jumped, startled, and slapped her palm to her forehead in annoyance. "Must you always appear so suddenly? It is very unnerving."

"My apologies, Fair Lady. I assure you, that was the last thing I intended." He bowed deeply. "However, you still have neglected to answer my question. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Beauty glared at the Prince who had appeared to her in her dreams nearly every night since she first became the Beast's prisoner. _Why can he not see that I am uninterested in his hand in marriage?_ She wondered not for the first time as the Prince held out his hand, expecting an answer. _He is a Prince, I am a Baker's daughter, I know nothing about him, after all of this time I still don't even know his name! It would never work between us. Besides_, she mused, wincing at a sudden pain in her scratched arm, _I am in no mood for a proposal at the moment anyway. _"I am sorry; Sir, but I cannot accept your proposal. Please forgive my bluntness, but I cannot marry a man I do not know," she snapped. The Prince stepped forward as if to ask her again and Beauty held out her hand to stop him. "Please, not another word. I don't even know your name, let alone your age, your home, your personality, who or what you are-"

"But cannot true fate and destiny transcend such things, Beauty? Is it really necessary that you know such things about me? I love you, Beauty, and that's all either of us need know. I loved you even as I saw you, nothing else matters. Marry me, Beauty!"

"-Besides which, do you have any idea what I've been through these past two months?"Before the Prince could make any response, Beauty cut him off. "For the past two months, I have been held prisoner by a horrible, monstrous beast. I've done nothing to this monster, but because my father accidentally stole some of his roses as a gift for me, I am forced to live on his grounds forever and can never see my family again. The beast is violent and quick-tempered; just tonight I have been assaulted by him!" she added, gesturing to the bandage on her arm. "I am fortunate enough to have a traveling companion who possesses a vast experience with wild beasts and even she is no match for my captor! As for myself, I am defenseless. Can you imagine, for a moment, how that must feel?" Tears began to fill Beauty's eyes as she went on. "Every day I feel so… so trapped. I cannot even leave my bedroom without assurance that he is nowhere near me for fear that he will act on what he originally implied to my father and… take my life. I cannot run from him, because he has warned me that if I so much as attempt it, he will kill my family and… injure me. I'm so helpless,,, so terrified…"

Beauty could not speak any longer, reliving the past two months had felt too horrible. She burst into tears, remembering once more that she was never to see her family again and feeling the pain of her own helplessness. For a moment, the Prince stared at her in what appeared to be sympathy. Could it be that he understood her plight? A moment later, however, he spoke and the words he said provided the shock of Beauty's life.

"He is really not quite so horrible, once you get to know him."

Beauty's tears stopped flowing in her shock. Had she heard right? Had this Prince had the gall to actually DEFEND that monster? After all she had been through and all the fear she faced, the Prince implied that the Beast was not at fault. Was he mad? Had she even heard him right? She could not have, it was simply too ridiculous.

"What?"

"Perhaps, if you tried to understand him, you would find that he is simply lost. He may only need someone to show him the proper way into the light."

Anger boiled up in Beauty listening to this. _Has he not heard a thing I've said_, she thought bitterly. "Understand him? Get to know him? I do not want anything to do with him! Have you not been listening?"

"Perhaps, Fair Beauty, it is you who must listen. Witches can be right, Beauty. Giants can be good. You must learn to forgive and to look deeper below his surface, for true beauty is found within."

"How can I forgive him? How could anyone ever forgive what he has done to me?"

"You must try, Beauty, for all of our sakes!"

"Your suggestion makes no sense! Why do you defend him? Why do you continue to come to me? Why do you-"

"Marry me!"

"No, I cannot!" Beauty's head was reeling. What was happening? What sort of spirit was this Prince? "How you can act as if I am to blame –"

"Do not be so quick to judge, Beauty. You may find that things are not what they appear." With that, he vanished into the fog, smiling demoniacally.

"Wait, where are you going? Come back here!" Beauty called, rushing into the fog as her eyes fluttered open. "Aaargh!" She screamed as her bedchamber came flooding back into focus. Infuriated, she slammed her hand into her pillow. Why did that Prince continually disappear in the middle of her dreams? Why did he persist in proposing to her? More importantly, what had he meant when he'd said that the Beast was not so horrible once one got to know him? How had the Prince known this? It did not make sense to Beauty. The Beast had treated not only her, but Puss in Boots and his own servants as well with the utmost cruelty. What more was there to his personality? Surely nothing. Closing her eyes, Beauty tried to force herself back into unconsciousness, but try as she might, she could not keep herself from trying to fathom the ridiculousness of the Prince's words. Against her will, their encounter played itself out in her mind over and over as she tossed and turned until the candles in the chandelier lit themselves to announce the morning.

_Author's note: OK, maybe I should stop making update promises I can't keep. My new year's resolution was to finish this fic, but at the rate I'm going… Well it seems like every time I promise an update at some point, something gets in my way, be it writer's block, "editing fever," confusion over how to place out certain parts, or my own busy life. This chapter, which was the hardest I've ever written so far, owes its lateness to all four. And from here on to a certain point, it's just gonna get tougher. I wonder how long it took Sondhiem and Lapine to write the original Into the Woods (I also wonder sometimes how they'd feel about the fact that I made the Baker's kid a girl for this sequel…but Beauty and the Beast made a lot of sense to me as a continuation, and to do that, it HAD to be done. Plus, the way the guys behave in this musical… yeah, we get one more male character in here, I fear for the future of the woods.)? I should just stop making promises. I am NOT on hiatus, though, this fic is still full-force.(Here's how full-force: I have written notes in "Ludwigese." No really, I will actually write the word "beauty" on a notepad as "bayutya.") Just bear with me, OK? I'll make it worth your while with this thing. And when I DO get writer's block, I work on some of the later chapters so that when the time comes, I can put them up really really fast. AAAAND… now for the notes! Firstly- I know I promised a Ludwig-to-English dictionary, but I've been told he's understandable without the dictionary. If you want it back, though, let me know. Secondly, the song is "Pray Reprise" from Once on this Island. Yes! I did finally use a song besides "Forever Yours!" Thirdly, I mentioned that the Baker has distant relatives (some of whom have pretty much ditched him) This will be fully explained in that four-part series I mentioned in another author's note series, provided I actually get around to it. Fourthly, don't think you've seen the last of Raoul- he'll be back, and he'll be back with a vengeance. He's just not important for awhile. Fifthly, I mentioned that Joanna has seven younger siblings twice now. Just in case anybody asks, they were not, I repeat NOT, Snow White's roomies. I'll get to my take on her past in another fic. Oh, and finally, for Brina's hairstyle, think Belle's in the title number of "Beauty and the Beast," except much longer and green. _

_What happens when Beauty snaps at the Beast once more and this time, Catalin is not around? Find out in the next chapter, along with other vignettes. _

_Reviews are awesome! Flames will be used to make magic baked beans. _


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